


A Beating Heart of Stone

by emraldmoon



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: BAMF Tony Stark, Black Widow - Freeform, Captain America - Freeform, Gen, Hawkeye - Freeform, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Howard Stark's Bad Parenting, Hulk - Freeform, Hurt Tony Stark, Iron Husbands, Iron Man - Freeform, Irondad, POV Tony Stark, Poor Tony Stark, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Peter Parker, Spider-Man - Freeform, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Angst, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Villain Tony Stark, spiderson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2020-05-19 06:27:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 63,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19351339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emraldmoon/pseuds/emraldmoon
Summary: Tony Stark wants revenge on Steve Rogers - the man who had always held his father's attention, the hero who had never came to his aid - and he has a plan to get it, if a certain Spiderkid would let him.





	1. Prologue

Tony sat in his workshop, glaring up at the livestream he had JARVIS project onto the far wall. It was a collage of eight different news channels, all brandishing varying versions of the title,  _ Avengers Orphanage Press Conference _ . Eight different reporters stood at various points around the Avengers tower, a generic-looking office building with the title  _ Avengers  _ in standard bolded letters in the top left.  _ A little bland _ , Tony couldn’t help but think every time he saw it. Just staring at the big, ugly slab of concrete, he could already think of fifty different ways to improve it. Whatever. That wasn’t what his job was. His job wasn’t to build the Avengers tower; his job was to knock it down. Tonight, Tony was finally going to do it.

Tony shot a small, red stress ball between his fingers as he glowered up at the projection, his jaw clenching as a name caught his attention, mentioned from the feed in the top right of the screen. JARVIS knew what he wanted before he even asked, and soon the room went silent, the only sounds coming from the man dressed in a navy coloured suit, staring through a set of horn-rimmed glasses at the camera.

“... Though she will be the one making the announcement, the Black Widow will not be the only one in attendance tonight,” the reporter was saying. “She will be joined by fellow heroes Dr. Bruce Banner, Clint Barton, and Captain America himself, Steve Rogers.” Tony’s teeth clashed together at the name.

_ Steve Rogers _ . The golden boy. Everything Howard Stark ever wanted in a son. Tony knew this, because that’s what Howard reminded him of every day of his childhood. He could barely manage to be in the same room as Howard without hearing about Captain America’s heroic conquests. Tony could still hear his father’s voice now.

_ Captain America fought in the war. You get drunk on every night of the week. _ Tony exhaled deeply.

_ Captain America does what’s right. You come home with a new girl every Friday.  _ He grit his teeth as his father’s voice echoed against his skull.

_ Captain America sacrificed himself to save New York. You only care about yourself _ . He squeezed the small, foam ball tighter in his hand.

_ Captain America saves people _ .

Tony stood abruptly, drew his arm back, and whipped the stress ball through the projection. It hit the wall behind the flickering blue screen and fell dejectedly to the ground, rolling back to Tony’s feet.

“Where was your precious  _ Steve Rogers  _ when I was in Afghanistan?” Tony shouted at the ceiling of his workshop, fire boiling in his veins as Howard’s degrading laugh echoed in his ears. “When I was being starved and tortured? Where was the great  _ saviour of humanity  _ then, huh?”

JARVIS must’ve turned off the audio of the news feeds, because now there were the same eight reporters in front of the same, dumb Avengers tower, mouthing words without sound, like mimes on the street.

Tony panted, frozen for a moment, before collapsing back onto his chair and putting his head in his hands. He inhaled for four, held for seven, exhaled for eight. Again. Four, seven, eight. Again. Inhale, hold, exhale. Again. Again. Again. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Calm. Collect. Control.

It wasn’t working.

“Your father again, Sir?” JARVIS asked as Tony pushed himself up from the chair, rolled his shoulders back, and walked over to the mini fridge in the corner of the workshop.

“Why, J? Why do I hear him so clearly? Why doesn’t he leave me  _ alone? _ ” Tony growled, reaching the door of the mini fridge and pulling it open. He grabbed a beer, not even bothering to close the fridge before slouching against the wall directly adjacent and pulling the lid off with his teeth. He drew one knee up to his chest and laid an arm atop it, stretching the other leg out in front of him. He took a large swig from the glass bottle.

“Did you do your breathing exercises, Sir?”

Tony laughed humorlessly.

“I’m telling you, J, that therapist’s a fraud. It didn’t work. That’s why you don’t search for medical advice online.” He took another swig and growled. “Beer doesn’t even  _ help _ . I need something stronger.”

“Does it help if I  _ strongly  _ advise against the pursuit, Sir?” Tony chuckled quietly, though it was more like an exhale of breath. “Why don’t you find a therapist in the city? I’m sure I can find you the best ones. I assume money isn’t a problem?”

“Nope. Not happening. I’ve held up this  _ Howard Stark’s Missing Son  _ headline since 2008. They still think I died in that Ten Rings attack. I’m not ending that streak now.”

“You will tonight.”

Tony hummed in agreement, taking another sip from the bottle in his hand, before tapping his fingers against it absentmindedly.

“I guess I should be getting ready, huh? Suiting up and stuff? It’s not every day you get to attack the Avengers tower.”

“Well, someone has to kill Steve Rogers.”

Tony laughed heartily as he pushed himself up from the wall, bottle still gripped tightly in his hand.

“Let’s go kill a hero.”


	2. Arachnid, Actually

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony makes his move on Captain America, but a certain vigilante makes a surprise appearance and puts a wrench in his plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The writing style for this story will be a bit different than in my last ones, because it's being heavily narrated by Tony Stark, so it'll be less professional with more side notes and snarky comments. I mean, it's Tony Stark. What did you expect?  
> I hope you enjoy! <3

Tony sat perched atop a building near the Avengers tower. It was 5:58pm. The press conference would start in two minutes, which meant Steve Rogers would be dead in three.

A large crowd of reporters gathered around a perimeter of police barricades, forming a tight semicircle of vultures and snakes around the main entrance to the tower. Behind them were a group of civilians, more spaced out, but still fighting for a view of the so-called heroes, once they came out to play. Tony noticed young kids sporting merchandise, excited for a glimpse of (who they think will be) their protectors, teenagers with their phones out to try to get a photo, and adults, which were the funniest group. There were those holding babies over the barricades, others shouting words of support, some just wanting to see what the commotion was about, and others with signs, some of support, some of protest.

It was truly an interesting sight.

 _5:59._ Almost time. Eight security guards exited the tower and situated themselves around the barricade, evenly-spaced with guns held protectively against their chests. Tony barely spared them a glance. They could be easily overcome.

Tony finished analysing the crowd and allowed his helmet to form around his head, scanning the display to ensure everything was in order - though, why wouldn’t it be? This was the very moment that Tony had been building towards since he escaped Afghanistan and bought the island of Bermuda under his father’s name, building his own headquarters there. (He also set up precautions surrounding the island to ensure no one found him. So far, his efforts were going well.)

His suits had evolved from essentially a tin can cage to a functioning, flying, missile-shooting suit of destruction, painted black with a gold faceplate and accents and glowing red eye plates and arc reactor. (He had written _Captain America Killer_ on the side of one of his earlier models, but scrapped it almost immediately after.) Tony wanted to ensure that, when he finally made his move on Steve Rogers, there would be no doubt in the man’s mind that Tony would be his doom.

 _6:00_ . Right on time, the group of four proceeded from the front doors of the tower. First came the Black Widow, followed by Hawkeye, Dr. Banner, and finally, Captain America. The crowd cheered a little louder, especially the children, when they caught sight of the casually-dressed man, wearing simply a bomber jacket on top of a white shirt and blue jeans. All four of them were dressed casually, the only exception being _maybe_ the Black Widow, who was wearing a dark blue pantsuit.

Although this would make it easier for him (it’s not like he expected them to host a press conference in full offensive gear), Tony found himself wishing the heroes _had_ worn their costumes. He wanted to see them _try_ to fight back and cause a little civilian panic while doing it, because he knew that he could defeat the four of them just as easily with their costumes as without.

Tony had been analysing their fight patterns since the Asgardian god attacked New York with an army of aliens. Seeing the Captain somehow find a fighter jet and collide it into the oncoming missile faster than any average man should’ve been able to, was the last straw for Tony.

Sure, Captain America was a hero. He was a hero when the city was watching. When he needed to crash a fighter jet into a missile. When he needed to destroy engines before they could lift the Sokovian city. When there wasn’t an audience, when there was no one looking, Captain America just… didn’t care. When a terrorist organization was planning to build an arsenal. When that same terrorist organization kidnapped a man and tortured him, waterboarded him, connected his life to a car battery until he agreed to help them.

Where was Captain America then?

Tony forced the red from his vision, letting it settle to a faint haze in the background, as the Black Widow began to speak.

“Good evening, everyone. I’m sure most of you are aware of why this press conference was called. If not, then let me put it in simple words for you. The Avengers are building an orphanage.”

Cameras flashed and people cheered. Tony didn’t focus on any of it, though - his attention was zeroed in on the blond standing off to the side, arms clasped loosely behind his back as he watched the redhead at the podium, smiling proudly.

Tony wanted to knock that smile off his face.

The Black Widow continued to speak about details, locations and budgets and staff, but Tony wasn’t listening to any of it. He was too busy readying his suit for attack.

“Is it time, Sir?” JARVIS asked in Tony’s earpiece as the man began to push himself up off the ground. Tony grunted in an answer as he scanned the crowd once again.

There were the four “heroes”, standing around the podium. Eight guards with guns ringing the police barrier. Reporters with cameras all focused on the podium. Civilians, fighting to catch a glimpse of their idols - except for one. One young girl, facing the opposite direction of the rest, staring up at a rooftop, the rooftop _he_ was standing on.

The girl looked up at Tony. Her eyes widened. Her finger pointed.

And she screamed.

Tony watched, slightly amused, as a woman who looked like the girl’s mother turned to immediately shush the girl, but followed where her finger was pointing, and gasped in horror.

Civilians were turning. Cameras began to flash. The Black Widow’s words faltered. Guns were aimed up at him. One guard, the one nearest to Tony, held up something that looked like a speaker as the group flinched away from the black suit.

“ _State your business._ ”

Tony watched the chaos below him. He wasn’t really taking pleasure in it, per se - he just didn’t mind it, either. He shrugged. Oh, well. This wasn’t how he wanted to begin the fight - he was originally planning to crash down behind the Cap, say some kind of fear-inducing one-liner, deliver a devastating blow to the chest (or head - he would decide what felt right in the moment) and fly away - but the journey didn’t really matter to him. Only the destination.

“ _Reveal yourself. Now!_ ”

Tony smirked. Okay, _now_ this was getting fun.

“I hate to interrupt such an important announcement,” Tony called from atop the building. "See, I, myself, am an orphan - but I have some important business to take care of.” 

Tony lifted off from the top of the building and soared over the crowd. Spectators flinched back in fear. Some screamed. Bullets ricocheted off Tony’s suit and landed in the group below. Civilians scrambled out of the way, forming holes in the tightly-packed square like carbon dioxide in soda.

Three of the four heroes ran into the tower, most likely to retrieve their weapons. Steve Rogers, however, stood staring up at Tony, eyes squinted as if he could see through the mask, as if he could _recognize_ Tony. Though he knew that was impossible, Tony glared back as he drew himself up to hover directly above the man. Steve had to take a step back to stare at him comfortably.

“Who are you?” Steve demanded. Tony wanted to respond, he _really_ did, but the sound of bullets hitting his suit were becoming _very_ annoying.

“Okay, you know what, guys?” Tony’s voice came out echoed and distorted through the many layers of the suit as he turned so his back was to Steve and he was staring down at the guards and civilians. “Just - cool it with the guns for a minute.”

They did _not_ cool it with the guns. If anything, the bullets only increased.

Tony sighed.

“That’s it. I warned you.”

Without a second thought, Tony held up a gauntlet-covered hand and focused it on the nearest guard, sending a heavy soundwave in his direction. The guard fell almost immediately, hands clasped around his ears as he dropped to the ground. Tony moved his hand to the next guard, and then the third. They were dropping like flies.

Bullets were coming faster, but from fewer directions. The crowd was screaming. Civilians were fleeing. Some reporters followed. Others, the braver ones, stayed and tried to get footage of the battle. Tony didn’t mind; he wanted this documented. _The Death of Captain America_. That would make a good headline.

Finally, the last guard dropped, and Tony (metaphorically) stepped back to admire his work. All eight of these men who were supposed to _protect_ the Avengers were writhing on the ground like worms. To be fair, Tony _did_ give them warning.

A bullet hitting the back of his helmet had Tony turning around.

Hawkeye had returned, this time equipped with a quiver and a loaded bow pointed in his direction. (A bow? Really? Tony wanted to laugh.) The Black Widow was beside him, a gun held tightly in her hands as she glowered up at the black suit hovering above her.

“Really, Miss Romanoff?” Tony called down, and the Black Widow’s expression darkened as he addressed her. “We’ve already established that guns don’t work.”

Tony lifted his gauntlet once more, ready to fire off a non-lethal shot, when suddenly, arrows began to pester him. Some exploded, but did no damage to the suit. Others tried to hook on to divots, but slid off the smooth nanotechnology. No matter how many failed, Hawkeye kept sending more arrows in Tony’s direction. Though Tony had prepared _way_ too much to fail at the hands of a wooden stick and a string, he admired Hawkeye’s tenacity.

The Black Widow continued to shoot. If she didn’t stop soon, she would run out of bullets. Tony allowed himself to hover still in the air, letting both his opponents run out of ammunition. When Tony won, he wanted them to be aware of just how hopeless their situation really was.

Bullets and arrows kept flying. Civilians kept screaming. Reporters spoke louder in the background. Tony held up his gauntlet, tired of how slow this fight was going, and was ready to fire when something hard knocked his hand down. Tony caught a quick glimpse of the object as it flew back across his vision like a boomerang. It was a shield - but not just _any_ shield. It was Captain America’s shield.

Tony turned his gaze sharply to the blond, who was crouched with his shield tucked over his chest, ready to attack. Dr. Banner stood beside him. It must’ve been him who brought Steve the shield, and who was now waiting to see if the Hulk was needed. (Their fight patterns were so predictable, and _so_ weak.)

The Black Widow and Hawkeye continued to shoot ammunition. Captain America threw his shield. Tony dodged it all. Nothing pierced the Iron Assassin. (Tony had spent the last ten years on this project. Of course he gave it a name.)

The crowd’s cheers began to grow. Those who had run away were trickling back. Tony wanted to laugh. They thought their heroes had _won?_ Hm. Maybe they thought the Iron Assassin’s immobility meant he was defeated. Well, Tony would just have to change that, wouldn’t he?

Tony raised his gauntlet, enjoying how it made the crowd scream. Man, he loved when people underestimated him. He shot a blast to the right of the Black Widow, not close enough to fatally hit her, but enough to graze her and send her flying from the sheer force. In the next second he lifted his arm and shot a well-aimed bullet at Hawkeye’s right shoulder. The man dropped his bow and fell to the ground, groaning. Tony rolled his eyes beneath the suit and turned back to Captain America.

Steve was crouched, the shield held tightly over his chest, as he stared up at the Iron Assassin, not speaking. Tony looked past him to Dr. Banner, almost hidden in the shadows of the building.

“Think you’re gonna Hulk out anytime soon?” Tony taunted, and Dr. Banner started to turn green.

“Enough!” Steve shouted, and Tony cocked his head as he refocused his attention on the man with the shield. “Who are you? What do you want?”

The crowd went silent behind Tony. They were all waiting… waiting for an answer they would never get.

Tony took the moment of tension to make his move.

Before anyone could react, Tony dove straight towards Captain America. The crowd screamed. Steve had just enough time to raise his shield and deflect the suit to the side, but Tony’s momentum was so strong Steve went tumbling to the ground. The two stood at the same time, facing each other. Tony could see Dr. Banner growing green. Without even looking at him, Tony shot a low-powered blast in his direction. Dr. Banner went flying back into a brick wall. He didn’t move.

Steve’s eyes went wide as he stared back at his friend, then at Hawkeye and the Black Widow lying behind Tony. Steve’s eyes seemed to lock onto something behind him, some kind of movement, and Tony spun around to see the Black Widow and Hawkeye struggling to their knees. He lazily lifted his arm and sent a second blast, knocking the two heroes off their feet from where they had tried to stand. They wouldn’t be moving anytime soon, either.

Tony turned back to Steve, whose wide eyes looked defeated. Tony just shook his head. The crowd around the pair was silent.

“ _These_ are the Avengers?” he asked Steve - then, louder, he addressed the crowd. “These are your _heroes?_ The ones who were supposed to protect you?”

The civilians were silent. Some were shedding a few tears. Others were openly sobbing. Cameras were flashing, taking pictures of the destruction the Iron Assassin had caused in a few moves.

A pin drop could be heard in the square. It was like the entire world had frozen, waiting on what was going to happen next. Tony sighed. It was pathetic, really. He wanted a _real_ fight, but it looked like Captain America was about to _give up_.

“Who are you?” Steve asked again, but this time, it was quieter, hopeless, full of despair. It was as if he was saying, _You win. Just tell me,_ and Tony would comply… but not yet. He had to get the dramatic timing especially right. This was his show, after all. He was the director, and Captain America was just the dispensable actor.

Tony took a step forward, and Steve threw his shield. Tony grabbed it easily and held it suspended in midair. He was upset to find he couldn’t crumple it (how _insanely_ badass would that have been?) and instead simply tossed it aside. It landed with a _thump_ along the other fallen heroes.

Tony took another step forward. Steve’s eyes flashed from the approaching suit to his shield on the ground, but there was no way he would be able to get it, and he knew it. Instead, Steve did one of the dumbest things Tony could’ve thought of. He held up his fists.

Tony cocked his head and squinted as he approached. Only a few steps away, now.

“You’re gonna fight me with _fists?_ ” he challenged, but Steve didn’t respond. He only bounced between his feet, preparing for a strike. Stray cheers began to rise from the crowd, and Tony wanted to yell at them to _shut up_. Oh, well. They wouldn’t be cheering in a minute.

“Okay, then. Let’s fight.”

Tony allowed his thrusters to lift him off the ground and fly him forward into Steve, fist outstretched. He knocked the man to the ground easily.

Steve went flying a few steps away. The crowd went silent once again, and Tony smiled before taking his time to walk up to Steve, up to Captain America, who was lying still on the ground. Tony kneeled beside him, and watched as Steve’s eyes fluttered open. He tried to sit up, but Tony held a firm hand to his chest and shoved him down.

“No,” Tony said simply, and he looked closer at Steve’s face, trying to memorize every detail. The red bruise forming on the entire right side of his face. His forehead, creased in worry. His eyes, torn between pleading for release, and fighting a losing battle.

Tony allowed himself to think back to how he got here. He thought back to Afghanistan, and how he was tortured for months, forced to build a weapon of mass destruction. Waterboarded. Electrocuted. Starved. Where was Captain America then?

“Why didn’t you save me?” Tony growled through the suit, and Steve’s eyes squinted in confusion. “Why did you dive into the ice?”

Steve shook his head slightly, trying to identify the voice. “Who are-”

In one swift motion, Tony swiped his hand up to pull off his mask and toss it aside. It clattered to the ground a few steps away, and Tony glared down at Steve, eyes burning with a fire only revenge could put out.

“Why did you dive into the ice?” Tony shouted, gauntlet pressing down against Steve’s chest. The man winced in pain, but fought to keep eye contact. “Why did you give up?”

Steve gasped through the pressure on his chest. “An-Anthony Stark?”

“You were supposed to _save_ me!” Tony shouted, voice scratchy - whether it was because of tears, adrenaline, or anger, Tony didn’t know. “Or am I out of your jurisdiction?”

“Mr. Stark, you - you were _dead_.”

“You _thought_ I was dead,” Tony growled, bringing his face closer to Steve’s, “because you didn’t save me. You left me to _die_ . I had to escape on my own! I had to fight through those horrors _on my own!_ ”

“Mr. Stark, please, there was an aircraft bomber-”

“ _I don’t care!_ ” Tony screamed, and Steve flinched under his grasp. Tony thought he might’ve heard faint shouts from the crowd behind him, but that didn’t matter. All that did was Tony, and Steve. The Iron Assassin, and Captain America.

“You wanted to _die_ so much? You wanted to give up on us, on _me?_ You committed suicide. There were other ways out. You could’ve came to _me_ and I would’ve killed you without hesitation.”

Steve looked horrified. “It wasn’t _suicide_. Please, Mr. Stark, There was no other way-”

“ _Yes there was!_ ” Tony’s voice was broken, his face contorted in pain and betrayal, and he lifted his gauntlet. The blue light glowed harrowingly on Steve’s horrified face. Tony glared down at him. He wished he hadn’t taken his mask off; he would’ve liked JARVIS to have recorded this, his big defeat. On the other hand, maybe it was better that the great Captain America was staring straight into the eyes of the man who would finally defeat him.

Tony took a breath until his voice was deathly quiet and steady. “You let me die,” he whispered through gritted teeth. “It’s time I repay the favour.”

Tony’s repulsor began to glow. Steve closed his eyes.

In a flash of blue and red, Tony was knocked off his feet and sent flying backward. He landed in a heap on the ground, dazed eyes blinking up at the sky above him. There was a dull ringing in his ears and his brain raced to catch up on what he had missed.

Okay. _Okay_. Assessments.

Faceplate was off. No help from JARVIS. Dull ache in ribs. Kicked? Black Widow, Hawkeye, and Dr. Banner were out. Couldn’t have been them. Captain America had practically accepted death. _He_ couldn’t have attacked Tony, either.

Tony was just about to start considering the fact that it could’ve been a civilian when he heard a new, juvenile-sounding voice.

“What, are you giving up already?”

Tony recognized that voice. That was… that was Spider-Man, right? Tony yanked his head up and - yup. That guy in a red-and-blue suit, crouched protectively in front of Captain America, helping him sit up and move out of the way? Spider-Man. Tony had seen him on the news before. He never really expected him to come to the aid of Captain America, though. He hadn’t prepared for it. Actually, it was fine. He could deal with a spider.

“You’re new,” Tony commented as he pushed himself up to his feet, blinking away the grogginess. He stood a few steps away from Spider-Man, and the two stared at each other, neither one wanting to make the first move, but both ready to respond to it.

The crowd was cheering wildly at the sight of a new hero. Tony rolled his eyes.

“They’re so annoying.”

Spider-Man held a hand to his chest and feigned a gasp. “How dare you offend our supporters?”

“ _Your_ supporters,” Tony corrected, holding up his gauntlet. “My enemies.” As if to emphasize his point, they began to boo. Tony groaned and rolled his eyes. Spider-Man giggled (... he giggled? At an _opponent?_ Clearly this guy was new). “Do they really think words of discouragement are going to stop me?”

Spider-Man shrugged. “They’re passionate.” Then, faster than Tony could see it coming, Spider-Man raised his hand and shot a web in Tony’s direction, catching his gauntlet and wrapping the entire hand in thick, sticky webs. Tony lifted his gauntlet to his face and looked at it with distaste.

“What _is_ this?” he asked as he inspected it. He tried to flex his fingers, but he couldn’t poke through the webbing. Spider-Man shot a second web to Tony’s other gauntlet, and Tony was too busy inspecting the first to dodge it. Now he had two web-encompassed fists, and he glared up at Spider-Man.

“Sorry, dude. Your suit’s cool and all, but I gotta protect my friend.”

Tony squinted at him. His upbeat attitude was a _huge_ change of pace compared to the past “heroes” he had tried to fight. No one had been able to incapacitate his suit yet, except for… a _spider?_

“It’s no problem at all. Don’t worry about it. How about you get these things-” Tony waved his covered gauntlets for effect- “off, and I can show you all the cool things my suit does?”

Spider-Man laughed. “Yeah, I don’t really make deals with supervillains. Sorry.”

Tony held a hand (fist?) to his chest and feigned surprise. “You really think I’m super?”

Something hit the Iron Assassin in the back of his head with a _thud_ , accompanied by cheers from the crowd. Tony turned to see Captain America glaring back at him in full battle-armour, shield strapped to his forearm. Tony shot his head back to face Spider-Man.

“You were _stalling?_ And I thought we had something special.”

Tony held up his gauntlets, directed at the heroes on either side of him, and fired up the repulsors - but nothing got through the webbing. Tony looked at his hands, his machinery, his _own_ work, in disbelief.

“Ten years of work, and I’m being beaten by an _insect_ ,” Tony grumbled in disbelief.

“Arachnid, actually.”

Tony looked up in surprise at where Spider-Man was casually resting against the Avengers Tower. How did he _hear_ that?

Suddenly, Spider-Man’s quips weren’t funny anymore; they were just _annoying_. (... Okay, they were still pretty funny.)

“This was fun, Spider-Man, but I actually had other plans for how this was going to go. Sorry.”

Tony shot four projectiles from his shoulder and aimed them all at different parts of Spider-Man’s body, but somehow, the hero dodged them all in a single graceful flip. Tony cocked his head and watched in awe when he got hit in the back of the head by Captain America’s shield again.

“Okay, are you done?” Tony turned back to Steve and was about to aim another group of projectiles when, suddenly, he was being tugged backwards.

His eyes grew wide as he tried to stare behind him and saw Spider-Man tugging on webs attached to… to _his_ suit. His arms were being forced behind him, entirely encompassed in webs from his shoulder to his wrists, as Captain America stepped towards him, eyes determined.

Tony didn’t understand. How was a bunch of _string_ overpowering his suit that not even Captain America’s shield could pierce?

Tony’s attention shot to the side when he heard a groan. The Black Widow, Hawkeye, and Dr. Banner were waking up, and the doctor was turning green. With a jolt, Tony realized that this was a losing battle, but for _him_ , even though he had the _perfect_ set-up to win with the public’s attention and destructive one-liners!

Shit.

Okay, he’d just have to regroup. Try again another time, when he was equipped to fight off tiny little insects ( _arachnids_ , Spider-Man’s voice corrected in his mind). Tony groaned in frustration when he realized he wasn’t going to win this one.

“You know what, guys, this has been fun,” Tony called as his thrusters fired up, “but I actually have other business to take care of. Same time next week?”

Tony put full force into the thrusters and lifted off from the ground. The Black Widow shot bullets, Hawkeye fired arrows, Captain America threw his shield, and Spider-Man tried to shoot another web to keep the Iron Assassin grounded, but Tony dodged them all, especially careful to protect his now-revealed face. He shot through the sky, the ammunition falling short behind him, already planning his next attack.

 

This is what I imagine the Iron Assassin suit to look like. This is concept art done by stark46192 on Reddit


	3. Mirror Image

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony tries once more to execute his plan, but Spider-Man’s waiting for him. They have a discussion.

Tony sat back at his desk in the workshop, scrolling through months of footage he had pulled up on his Starkphone of the red-and-blue superhero. Apparently, this _Spider-Man_ had been swinging around, helping the little guy, protecting the city of Queens from stabbings and robberies.

The Iron Assassin had been defeated by a glorified cop.

Tony sighed, running a hand over his face. _Years_ of planning, defeated by a new guy in a onesie.

Fine. You know what, this was _fine_ . He’d just plan better, and then return to defeat Captain America _and_ Spider-Man. But first, to beat Spider-Man, he’d need Spider-Man’s weakness.

“JARVIS,” Tony called to the open air, eyes not leaving the video he was watching of Spider-Man halting a car before it could hit a bus. “Is Spider-Man still at the Avengers tower?”

“He’s just leaving.”

Tony squinted his eyes in calculation. “Hack into the security cameras around the city. Follow him.”

“Of course, Sir.”

Tony put his phone face-up on the desktop, videos still playing as JARVIS projected an alternate visual on the wall across from him. Tony was left wondering why New York City couldn’t afford better security cameras as he looked down from above on the scene he had just left. He barely caught Spider-Man swinging out of frame as civilians cheered in his wake.

Cameras changed, and Tony followed Spider-Man as he swung through the city, sometimes from the tops of skyscrapers, other times from the inside of convenience stores. As the hero passed, he attracted attention of all kinds. There were the children who tried to chase after him, and the adults that tried to get it on film, and even the occasional teenager wearing a t-shirt with Spider-Man’s iconic colours and a web spread across it.

Tony was… intrigued, to say the least. How could this hero, wearing a red sweatshirt atop blue tights with what looked like swimming goggles covering his face, attract so much attention and become such an iconic character in his city when Tony had previously heard nothing of him? How had he flown under the radar for so long?

Tony refocused on the screen when he noticed the image hovering on a single building.

He was watching from a crosswalk camera as Spider-Man perched on the edge of what looked to be an apartment building, sticking with his hands and feet to the bricks on the exterior. It was overlooking a quiet street with balconies lining every window, some with flowers and lawn chairs, others entirely empty. Tony watched in anticipation as Spider-Man took one arm off the brick and brought it up to his mask.

 _This is it_ , Tony thought excitedly as he subconsciously leaned closer to the screen, an eager grin crossing his features. He watched, eyes wide, as Spider-Man gripped the bottom of his mask, pulled up… and revealed his face.

Tony almost fell out of his chair.

His hand slammed down on the desk beside him to keep from falling, and his wide eyes rapidly changed from ones of excitement to ones of disbelief.

Spider-Man was… was a _fourteen-year-old kid_.

A _fourteen-year-old kid_ had beaten the Iron Assassin.

_What the heck?_

Tony watched, holding his breath, as the boy eased open one of the apartment’s windows and crawled inside the building, disappearing from view and shutting it behind him.

“There are no more cameras to track Spider-Man’s position.”

Tony jumped at the sound of JARVIS’ voice, breathing heavily.

Fourteen-year-old kid. Fourteen-year-old kid. He had almost been _defeated_ by…. And now he was planning to _kill_ ….

Tony collapsed forward onto his desk, resting his head against his palms as he squeezed his eyes shut.

Things had just gotten a _lot_ more complicated.

“Is everything alright, Sir?” JARVIS’ soothing voice pierced Tony’s thoughts - though, they could be better described as a tornado of ideas, torn between _kill Captain America_ and _save a teenager_.

Tony hated to think it, especially because they were on opposing sides, but the kid reminded him a lot of… well, of _himself_ . Judging by the looks of the boy’s suit, he had clearly made it on his own, artistic abilities be damned - but that _also_ meant he had made his webs on his own, the webs that were able to restrain gold-titanium alloy. Plus, the kid was able to keep up with Tony’s mid-battle quips and comments.

Tony couldn’t help seeing himself in the boy, in Spider-Man, in this kid wanting to help the world through the only way he knew how - and _that_ train of thought led Tony to another one.

When Tony was younger, Howard had shut down his resolve, his desire for good. Tony wasn’t unaware of how he used to think when he was younger, once upon a time, just a naïve child chasing after fatherly affection and approval he would never get. He knew he had wanted to save the world, to one day become a hero, just like what Spider-Man was currently accomplishing, but Howard had reduced that aspect of him to nothing. Burned it to ash.

Tony _couldn’t_ let the same thing happen to Spider-Man.

“J, identify Spider-Man,” Tony groaned through his headache, letting his head roll to the side until his cheek was lying on his arms rather than his forehead.

“Peter Parker,” JARVIS answered almost immediately. “Born in Queens to Richard and Mary Parker. They died in a plane crash, and later his Uncle, Benjamin Parker, in an armed robbery. He currently studies at Midtown School of Science and Technology and lives with his Aunt, May Parker. He is fifteen years old.”

Tony sat, frozen, mouth agape. Okay, fine, the kid - _Peter_ \- was fifteen, and he was smart enough to go to Midtown (making him even _more_ like Tony). That was the least of what caught Tony’s attention.

At fifteen, Peter had lost _three_ parental figures? _Three?_ No wonder he wanted to do good. He lived on a single parent income, which explains the design choice for his suit. In addition to that, if Tony didn’t know any better, it looked like he was sneaking into his apartment, so his Aunt May didn’t know he was Spider-Man.

 _Does anyone?_ Tony wondered with a jolt. He kept his mask on, he barely stayed to chat with the other Avengers, he entered his apartment through a window....

No one knows Peter is Spider-Man - why? Why was he keeping it a secret? If Tony could’ve gone toe-to-toe with flying suits of destruction and enhanced super soldiers when he was fifteen, the entire world would’ve known - so why was Peter hiding it?

Maybe… maybe it was his, or his Aunt’s, safety he was concerned for. He was only fifteen with no idea how to handle life, how to handle _anything_ yet. Add the public knowing he can stop a speeding vehicle with his bare hands, and he’d have one disaster of a life. It was no wonder Peter was keeping it a secret.

Now, Tony knew his weak spot… but was he going to use it? He had to, right? This had been Tony’s sole goal for the last ten years. Everything he had done was building up to this moment of getting to Captain America, whatever that took, even if it meant he had to destroy a fifteen-year-old’s life.

A fifteen-year-old who had lost three parental figures.

A fifteen-year-old who had a bright future ahead of him.

A fifteen-year-old who only wanted to do good.

A fifteen-year-old who reminded Tony _so much_ of himself _._

Tony only wanted to get to Captain America. That was _it_ . He didn’t want to harm anyone else, and there _definitely_ wasn’t supposed to be any kids involved. Now, Tony had no idea what to do.

Tony sighed, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He had to do his second attack _now_. Hitting the Avengers twice, so close together as they were still recovering from his first attack while Tony himself was at full strength was ideal. And if Peter Parker showed up… well, Tony would just have to decide what to do when the moment arose.

It wasn’t a good plan. Tony was a man of meticulous planning, and knowing what was going to happen before it did - but that was _before_ a kid got involved.

Tony stood and shook the thoughts from his brain. Step one: fix the suit to resist pesky spider webs. Then, he’d figure out how to attack.

⬩ ⬥ ⬩

Two days later, Tony was ready for his second attack. He had made the suit more smooth with barely any chinks for spiderwebs to hook onto, so he was ready for any unexpected arrivals from a certain Spider-Man. Of course, Tony prayed Peter wouldn’t show up, hoped it wouldn’t come to that; but a little voice in his mind told him that there was no other option. If Peter was _truly_ like Tony pre-Howard, he would come to the aid of as many people that needed him, as long as he was still standing. Tony hated that he might have to knock the kid down.

Nevertheless, Tony climbed into the suit and called for a portion of the roof to slide open, flying through it and up into the air. Whenever he lifted off, he loved to look back at his house behind him. It was on the island of Bermuda, but it was underground. The roof was camouflaged, designed to look like shrubbery that existed on the island. Sometimes, Tony even startled some birds that had been relaxing on the entrances and exits.

Precautions had been set up in a perimeter around the island, to keep people from finding him. There was a reason he had gone undiscovered for so long. They ranged from extreme wind generators to sound cannons, and everything in between which was capable of incapacitating pilots or ship captains that tried to enter the perimeter. Tony had tried to place the devices in a circular shape, but weathering pushed them into more of a triangle, and Tony was pleased to say his defenses were working so well, they had established their own nickname in the media. Well, _the Bermuda circle_ doesn’t have the same ring to it, does it?

Tony flew across the water into the city, high enough to be above the buildings, but low enough as not to enter airspace. Maybe he even looked like an oversized bird to pedestrians below.

He brought himself to hover over the rooftop of one of the buildings bordering the Avengers tower, opposite the one he had occupied previously. As he had suspected, there were more defenses set up around the tower. Guards were pacing the perimeter with heavy-looking guns, but Tony had the common sense to assume they didn’t just shoot bullets. He had even more sense to know that no matter what they created, they could never take down the Iron Assassin.

 _Yeah, you’re right_ , a voice in Tony’s head spoke up. _Only a fifteen-year-old kid with a low income and a single parent can do that._

 _Shut up_ , Tony argued back as he squinted to find a weak spot in the Avenger’s defenses. He could take the guards down easily with one arm tied behind his back, but he preferred not to do that. He wanted to look absolutely, one-hundred-percent triumphant when he finally got to face Steve Rogers, and any dents or scratches in his armour would completely destroy that image.

Suddenly, Tony got hit by a stroke of genius. “JARVIS, hack their screens. All of them. Make them go static, but carry my voice through. Give me audio and visual of the four heroes, too.” Large, red numbers appeared on Tony’s screen, counting down from _3_ . When they reached _1_ , his display split into four corners.

The first was at a downward position angled up, looking at the Black Widow in workout gear with her hair tied back. _She’s running on a treadmill_ , Tony noted as he watched her body twist. She hadn’t noticed the change in what used to be her statistics display yet.

The second screen was of a laboratory - and, if Tony was being honest, it was pretty impressive. It didn’t hold as much appeal as his own workshop, but it was pretty cool. Dr. Banner was standing with his back to the screen, looking at something on a nearby table. Tony assumed his view was from a desktop computer.

The image in the bottom left corner was of a living room, a large, white couch sitting atop a fluffy carpet with a coffee table in the middle. Hawkeye was pouring himself a cup of coffee from the kitchen in the background. Tony’s hijacking had thus far gone unnoticed by him, as well.

The last screen, and most important, could’ve been mistaken as blank. It must’ve been a cell phone, lying face up somewhere, as Tony could only see white ceiling - oh, and a small portion of Steve Roger’s face in the corner. Hm. Tony would have to attract Steve’s attention to the phone if he wanted to know what he was doing.

“Avengers!” Tony called, and all four looked up at their screens, at _him_ , at once. Tony smiled at the confusion, then panic, on their faces, as they tried to return their screens to what they had used to be. The Black Widow stopped running, a vial Dr. Banner was holding crashed onto the floor, Hawkeye’s coffee spilled from the mug, and Steve’s face came into view, just staring down at the phone. A quick glance at the outside of the tower showed that the guards had no knowledge of what was going on; no idea how easily Tony had infiltrated their systems.

“I see you’ve increased your security,” Tony continued. “Yes. Good decision. They _really_ made it difficult for me to get to you guys-” One of the cameras was shifting. Steve lifted his phone to see it easier, and Tony realized it had previously been resting on a bed. There was an open notebook beside Steve, and-

“Mr. Rogers, is that dear old me you’re sketching?”

Steve’s face burned red as he reached a hand down to slam his notebook shut and began to look around for a camera. The others tried to do the same.

“My oh my, you guys are dull, aren’t you?” Tony noticed Dr. Banner’s lips quirk up as he searched under one of the cabinets. Huh, the Hulk had a good sense of humour. “The cameras are _in_ your devices.”

Said devices must not have been expensive, because Steve threw his phone across the room and it landed on the floor as the other three tried to punch through their screens. Tony’s view only flickered slightly.

“Hey, hold on a second. Let’s talk about this,” Tony tried to reason, emotionless, as Steve slammed his heel into his phone. They did _not_ want to talk about it. “You guys know I have other cameras, right?” _That_ finally got their attention. All four froze, before resuming their search around their rooms, and Tony wanted to laugh.

“You’re never going to find them,” _unless you destroy all your devices_ , “so how about we just talk first?”

The Black Widow and Dr. Banner were smart enough to look into the distance in thought as Tony spoke. Hawkeye and Steve, however, continued to stare at their static screens, as if they might get a glimpse of Tony’s face. Idiots.

 _That’s like you talking to the ceiling when you address JARVIS_ , that voice in Tony’s head returned to remind him.

_Hey, I stopped doing that a while ago. Shut up, I’m trying to attack some heroes here._

The voice in his head complied.

“What do you want, Stark?” Steve challenged, and Tony smirked at how devotedly he was staring at his phone, at _Tony_.

“How about you call off your guards outside, and we have a chat, just me and you?”

Steve’s mouth set in a line. “What, scared you’ll lose the fight?”

“No, I just don’t want to leave too much of a mess. Waste management doesn’t get paid enough for that.”

The four faces on the screen froze, and Tony smirked.

 _That was a good line_ , his mental friend commented.

 _Thanks_ , Tony replied.

“Hmm,” Tony hummed after a minute of no responses. “A little boy playing jump rope. Hope he doesn’t get too close to the action.”

Of course, Tony would never harm a civilian, especially if it was just a little boy playing _jump rope_. Honestly, Tony was more inclined to join him - but a civilian’s life in danger was just the reminder the Avengers needed to get them moving.

“Also,” Tony continued, and they froze from where they had been scrambling around their respective screens. _Hm_ , Tony thought. _I should threaten civilians more often. Everyone’s so compliant now!_ “No weapons. Remember, I have cameras. I’m watching you. Call off the guards, come out slow. All of you, actually. I’ll be waiting.”

Now, all Tony had to do was sit back and watch.

He wasn’t an idiot. He knew the Black Widow would’ve snuck her Widow Bites onto her wrists, and Dr. Banner was always a weapon within himself, but he could deal with that. Actually, he could deal with _anything_ they threw at him (literally, in terms of Captain America) - he just wanted to establish power.

When a few guards froze and touched their earpieces for a second, before waving their buddies in, Tony felt he had done that.

As he watched the guards (and all their weapons) leave, Tony momentarily entertained the idea that the Avengers told them to wait not far off and attack when Tony revealed himself, but he thought better of it. Those guards were still civilians, and civilians needed to be kept safe.

For a moment, Tony visualized himself as one of the Avengers. It wasn’t so much of a stretch, if not for the fact that he was currently about to kill one of their own. He had the same values they did - get the mission done, save the people, with the least number of casualties as possible. If Howard had been a better father and favoured his son more than a stranger, Tony might’ve been calling himself an Avenger right now.

Though he would be a tad embarrassed to admit, Tony carried himself away with this little fantasy he had created.

If he _was_ an Avenger, the first thing he would do would be to upgrade the tower. It was so _boring_ . Heroes needed to live in something cool, like a curved, slanted skyscraper. A big _A_ on the front. Make it look more like a superhero’s headquarters than an office building.

Their suits would all need upgrades, too - _drastic_ ones, especially Spider-Man’s. When he returned home victorious, Tony was _definitely_ going to start planning different web designs. There were _so. Many. Options_.

Imagine Tony Stark’s tech being used for good. What a world.

Tony was startled out of his creative exercise when he saw the four Avengers exit the building, Steve Rogers in the lead. He flew down to meet them, and landed between them and the front door to the tower with a _clang_. They turned in surprise, and Tony took pride in his stealthiness.

“Good, you complied.” Tony raised his arm (amongst visible tenses from the group) to gesture to the Black Widow’s wrists. “Well, almost.”

The Black Widow was quick to lift her fist to point it at Tony, but he just raised his hands like a sarcastic surrender. “Whoa, no need for that. Plus, you couldn’t hurt me with those anyway.”

She smirked, cocking her head. “Wanna bet?”

“Hmm.” Tony waved her off, and she took a step back, letting her fist fall. She looked kind of… _disappointed_ . _Maybe another time_ , Tony hoped. “No, my attention’s focused on the Cap here.”

Steve was just about to step forward to accept the challenge when Tony heard a voice he wished he hadn’t.

“Are you seriously back here, _again?_ ”

Tony tried not to tense too obviously as he turned to stare up at Spider-Man, at Peter Parker, as he hung from the side of the Avengers tower.

“You weren’t supposed to enter the scene yet, kid,” Tony called up to him as Peter gave a little wave to the other Avengers. From the corner of his eye, Tony thought he saw Dr. Banner wave back. “Your cue is _after_ Captain America is lying dead at my feet.”

“Yeah, I thought we discussed, you’re not doing that.”

Tony watched as Peter pushed off the building and flipped backwards to land beside Dr. Banner, facing Tony with the rest of the heroes. Tony was horrified to feel a sense of _pride_ welling up in his chest as Peter stuck the landing.

“Go home, kid.” Tony took a step in his direction - and, to Peter’s credit, Spider-Man didn’t flinch. “You don’t want to involve yourself in this.”

“Actually…” Peter made a show of looking to the people who stood beside him, before shrugging. “I don’t think it’s such a bad decision.”

Tony smiled beneath the helmet - then dodged as a wave of webs went flying towards him.

“Alright then.” Tony cracked his neck - but it was really just for show, he couldn’t get it at the angle he needed it to be with the suit on - and took a step towards Peter. “That’s how it’s going to be.”

Before anyone could react, Tony ignited his thrusters and flew towards Spider-Man. He gripped the kid in his arms and shot upwards despite his struggles, straight up the side of the Avengers building to drop him on top. Peter landed crumbled in a heap on the gravel-covered roof (though he didn’t fall from _too_ high - Tony’s not a monster) and Tony landed gently behind him.

Tony completely expected the kid to give up there, start embarrassing himself as he begged for mercy and pleaded, _I’m just a kid_ \- but of course, he should’ve given the kid more credit.

Visibly biting back a groan, Peter rolled over until he could heave himself to his feet, and stood, staring back at Tony.

“One on one, then?” he quipped, voice light and eyes bright though he couldn’t _possibly_ be as unharmed as he was letting on. Tony was impressed.

“You’re really trying to be good, huh?” Tony asked, and he watched as Spider-Man shrugged and looked out at the city. It was really pretty up here - for Tony, because he knew he was in control. With horror, Tony began to wonder how Peter felt. Did he feel evenly matched to Tony, or was he scared, thinking he would die alone up here?

No matter how he felt, Tony was amazed at how well the kid kept it together, how casually he was speaking.

“Someone’s got to protect the city.” Peter refocused his attention on Tony. “And you’re really trying to be bad.”

“We’re on opposing sides… in the general sense of the term.”

“How else would I interpret it?”

Tony quirked an eyebrow, impressed. The kid was really keeping him on his toes.

“Don’t take it personally, kid. I just got something to settle with Steve Rogers down there, not _all of humanity_ or anything. You walk away, let me deal with this, and you’ll never have to hear from me again.”

“Counter-offer.” Tony wanted to laugh. This kid was like a mirror-image of him. “I protect Captain America, send you to jail, and _then_ I never hear from you again.”

“Kid.” Tony lifted his arms, presenting the suit. “You think jail can hold me?”

“My webs could.”

Tony actually laughed out loud, and Peter stiffened. He wasn’t used to friendly villains (or any villains at all, for that matter).

Tony cut off his laugh when he remembered why he had brought Peter up here, why he had isolated him.

“Look, kid, you gotta let me do this. Go home.”

Peter pretended to think about it. “Hmm… no.” He shot another web, that Tony dodged just as easily as the first.

“I know you were able to keep up with me the first time, but I’ve made some adjustments these last two days. Don’t do this, Spider-Man. You _will_ lose.”

Peter fired another web, and this time, Tony didn’t dodge. He let it wrap around his arm and slide down the slick metal. Peter visibly stiffened as Tony caught the web in his hand. He looked up at Peter, gripping it tight, and Tony could tell by Peter’s stance that he knew what Tony was about to do. Tony did it anyway.

He pulled the web towards him and Peter fell forward, sprawling at Tony’s feet with a small yelp. Tony kneeled on the ground beside him, watching as Peter rolled onto his back.

“Give it up, kid.”

“Are you still going after Captain America?”

“That’s the only reason why I’m here.”

Peter placed his hands underneath him and tried to push himself up into a seated position, but Tony put a gentle hand on his chest with just enough force to keep him down.

“Last chance. Walk away.”

Peter was quiet for a moment, and Tony prayed he would agree and swing away - ignorance is bliss, after all - but instead, he shook his head.

“Not when there’s still people who need my help.”

Tony sighed, heart aching. It hurt, how much this kid was like him - or, like he was once upon a time. Tony repositioned himself until his forearm was pressed across Peter’s chest, and the kid gave a feeble struggle before freezing completely, and Tony could only imagine how scared he was. Slowly, regrettably, Tony reached a hand up, trying to ignore how Peter flinched, gripped the bottom of his mask… and pulled.

Wide, brown eyes stared up at him, and the kid - geez, he looked _terrified_ , frozen under Tony’s metal-clad arm. Tony was barely applying any pressure - the kid was paralized in fear. This was something Tony _had_ to do, though… wasn’t it?

“Peter Parker.” The kid flinched. “Attends Midtown, born to Mary and Richard, until they died, and later, your Uncle Ben.” Tears sprung to Peter’s eyes, though he feverishly tried to blink them away, and Tony realized yet another connection he had with the kid. Orphan. “You currently live in an apartment in Queens with your Aunt May-”

Peter spurred to life. “Don’t touch her!” He sprung upright to a sitting position, and Tony was so shocked, he let him. Tony raised his hands in a surrendering gesture.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Tony meant it. “Just - leave, kid. Or…” Phew, alright, here it goes. About to threaten a fifteen-year-old kid with the purest heart Tony had seen since Rhodey. “I’ll share your identity.”

Peter flinched, and his wide eyes looked somewhere past Tony, debating. Tony watched him sadly. He looked so much like a baby deer, a fawn, with wide eyes that stared at the world with such naivety, and Tony just destroyed it, crumbled it to dust, in the name of his own self-interests.

“Okay,” Peter whispered, and Tony’s brow furrowed.

“Okay?”

Peter sighed shakily, and he nodded, blinking away emotion until he was glaring defiantly at Tony. “Do it. Tell them. I don’t care, but I’m not letting you hurt Captain America.”

Tony just… stared. He couldn’t do anything _but_ stare at this _insanely_ loyal, kind, responsible kid he had stumbled across, and Peter started back, resilient. He was waiting for _something_ , for Tony to either give him up or give in - and Tony just _couldn’t_ give him up.

Gently, Tony reached out to reclaim Peter’s Spider-Man hood and he gently pulled it back over the kid’s head, taking one last look at his wide, innocent eyes before covering them with the red fabric. Tony stepped back and watched Peter’s shoulders sink in relief.

“Why?” Peter asked softly, and Tony wondered how to tell him that Peter reminded him so much of _himself._

Tony just shook his head and walked to the edge of the roof, about to fly down, when he felt something hit him in the back of the head. He turned, rubbing the back of his helmet with his gauntlet-covered hand (just for show, obviously) and saw Peter with his arm raised, having just fired a web.

“I’m telling you, kid, go home-”

Another web. And another.

“Peter, you gotta stop-”

The webs slapped against his suit, but had no affect. Peter didn’t care. He kept shooting.

“Hey.” Tony stepped forward, and grabbed Peter’s wrists in his own. Peter struggled, but he couldn’t fight his way out of Tony’s grip. “I’m gonna go now. Are you gonna let me?”

Peter kept fighting, and Tony let him go. The webs fired back, one after the other after the other, and Peter _wouldn’t stop_.

“Peter.” More webs. “Pete, you gotta let me leave.” Peter kept shooting, over and over, and Tony wasn’t going to do anything, Tony didn’t _want_ to do anything-

Tony shot his hand up and caught a web in midair, tossing it to the side and replacing it with his own open gauntlet. Peter froze, arm still raised.

“I-I’m not letting you leave,” he stuttered, and Tony wanted to cry at how _young_ he sounded.

“I don’t know how you’re going to stop me.”

Peter shot another web.

“Kid, webs won’t do anything-”

And another.

“Peter, if you don’t stop-”

And another.

In a single breath, Tony closed his fist and angled his arm so his wrist was facing Peter, and his projectiles sprouted from their containment in his wrist, ready to fire.

Peter didn’t stop. He shot another web.

“Kid, please, don’t make me-”

Peter shot another web, and Tony fired.

He felt the projectile leave its compartment like it was signing the kid's death warrant, and everything seemed to move in slow motion. Spider-Man stepped back in the split second he had left, watching the bullet as it arched towards him - and Tony couldn't watch the rest. He ignited his thrusters and sped away in hopes he could escape earshot before hearing Peter's yelp from behind him - to no avail. He couldn't escape the fifteen-year-old's cry of pain from the earth below.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The placement of Bermuda is inaccurate - in real life, the island is one of the vertices of the triangle rather than in the center, but I thought the idea of Tony Stark being behind all the disappearances was kind of cool, so let’s ignore that :)


	4. Peter Parker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony makes a decision regarding Spider-Man. Later, he makes a decision regarding Peter Parker.

Tony gently brought himself to land back in his workshop, head reeling. That was the  _ second  _ time he had tried to get to Captain America, and the  _ second  _ time he was derailed because of a fifteen-year-old kid in a onesie.

Tony disengaged his suit and stumbled forward until he collapsed at a chair beside his worktable. (He found himself in this chair a lot lately, debating what to do about this whole insect problem.) This time, though, he wasn’t thinking ahead - he was reflecting on the past.

“I… shot him,” he said simply as he stared at nothing, arms lying limp in his lap.

“Captain America, Sir?” JARVIS answered with slight amusement. “Congratulations.”

Tony sighed and spun in his chair, giving himself something to do, an action to get his mind off the dread he was feeling. “No, J, not Captain America, Spider-Man. Peter Parker.”

After a moment, JARVIS responded. “Security camera footage shows Spider-Man alive and well.”

Tony looked up with a start, watching the footage JARVIS had projected onto the far wall. An image of Spider-Man filled the screen as he slowly crawled his way down the Avengers tower, clutching his right arm to his chest. Tony had to look away.

“Yeah, I didn’t  _ kill  _ him.” JARVIS didn’t respond. Tony furrowed his brow as he looked up at the ceiling, avoiding the image of the injured boy. “You thought I killed him.” Still, JARVIS said nothing. “You thought I had killed a fifteen-year-old boy. That’s something you expected me to have done.”

“Well, Sir, you  _ were  _ very determined to defeat Captain America-” Although JARVIS wasn’t a sentient being, Tony could’ve sworn he heard embarrassment in the AI’s voice.

“Yeah, but I’m not going to  _ kill  _ a fifteen-year-old.” JARVIS didn’t say anything else. “Geez,” Tony muttered to himself, falling back into his desk chair and turning his attention to the screen. Spider-Man had just reached the bottom of the tower, the other four Avengers rushing forward to meet him. Steve Rogers looked to the top of the building warily, but Peter must’ve said something, so Steve brought his eyes back down.

The security camera changed to get a better view, leaving Tony disoriented for a moment. When he got his bearings, he noticed something he hadn’t before - the wound on Peter’s shoulder.

Peter was clutching his left hand overtop it, but there was still blood seeping through his fingers and staining his suit a different shade of red. The contrast, though it wasn’t much, was jarring, and Tony couldn’t watch it.

“Switch cameras.”

“This particular camera has the best angle for-”

“Do it.”

The image changed, and now Tony was  _ behind  _ Peter, looking on at the faces of the other Avengers. Peter’s back was to Tony, and therefore the bullet Tony had put in his shoulder was hidden from him. Tony breathed a small sigh of relief.

Dr. Banner stepped forward and attempted to reach for Peter’s shoulder, but the kid pushed him away, albeit gently, and took a step back.  _ Not a toucher, then?  _ Tony wondered with confusion.

The group continued to talk, and then disperse, Spider-Man swinging carefully away with his one good arm. Tony watched him disappear, then signalled for the video to be shut off.

“Would you like me to follow him home, Sir?”

Tony thought for a moment. Spider-Man was still…  _ at large _ , one could say, and if Tony was going to get to Captain America, he’d have to evade Peter Parker. Tony had just the way to do it… but did he want to?

“No,” Tony sighed after a moment, his hands coming up to ruffle his hair in anticipation. “I have another job for you.”

“Anything you need.”

Tony smiled to himself, a bittersweet smirk, before looking to the floor and taking a deep breath.

This was something that had to be done.

“Contact all New York reporting services. Newspapers, news channels, magazines. Send a message anonymously.” Tony stopped for a minute. This was his last chance to back out, his last chance to turn back and ensure a fifteen-year-old got to live the life he deserved.

“What would you like the message to say?” JARVIS coaxed quietly, and Tony groaned, resting his elbows on his knees so he could drop his head into his hands. He threaded his fingers through his hair and pulled,  _ hard _ .

Howard had ruined his life. Was he about to do the same to a little kid?

_ He had no choice _ .

_ Was that what Howard thought? _

Tony took a deep, steadying breath before setting his face in a stony expression. He sat upright in his chair and called out to the room, “Peter Parker is Spider-Man.”

Tony sat anxiously, waiting, waiting for something to happen - but he didn’t know what. Maybe he expected alarms to go off, echoing through the whole city - or maybe a tornado would drop out of nowhere and annihilate the entirety of New York.

Nothing happened.

_ Maybe the message didn’t even go through _ , Tony thought hopefully.

He didn’t notice the repercussions until the next day.

⬩ ⬥ ⬩

Tony was greeted by JARVIS’ voice the second he opened his eyes the following morning.

“Good morning, Sir. Spider-Man is trending across five different social media platforms. All newspapers situated in New York are reporting about his identity, and multiple billboards in Times Square have been filled with the news.”

Tony groaned and rubbed his eyes as he sat up in bed. He had to think for a moment about what JARVIS was talking about, but when he remembered-

“Shit.” He stumbled out of bed to reach for his phone on the nightstand and brought it up to his face, flinching against the bright light. He opened Google and searched for the latest trending news, and four articles popped up immediately, all accompanied by the smiling face of Peter Parker.

_ Must be a school photo _ , Tony realized as he noticed the blue background, and clicked into the first article, beginning to read.

_ An anonymous source submitted the following message at approximately 4:30pm yesterday evening: “Peter Parker is Spider-Man.” We looked into this anonymous tip and identified Peter Parker as a fifteen-year-old boy living in Queens- _

Tony tossed his phone onto the bed, not wanting to read anymore, and fell back, digging the heels of his hands against his eyes. He had just destroyed the life of a fifteen-year-old kid.  _ He  _ had done that, and now he couldn’t take it back. Sure, he wanted to get back at Captain America - but he never wanted an honest-to-goodness  _ teenager  _ to get caught in the crossfire.

“J,” Tony called through his hands, “where’s Peter Parker?”

“He’s currently walking to school, Sir.”

_ School _ . Tony scoffed at such a miniscule thing, such a trivial thing that Spider-Man, the kid who had beaten the Iron Assassin  _ twice _ , had to endure.

Without Tony having to ask, JARVIS projected a security camera following Peter Parker as he walked to school in the empty space in front of Tony. Once again, JARVIS had hacked into a security camera on the top of a building, and Tony was following Peter’s progress from above.

He was wearing a sweatshirt, the hood pulled up over his head and his hand stuffed in his pockets, making it difficult to see his face. There was a backpack perched on his left shoulder, and Tony got a painful, unwelcome reminder of why it wasn’t being worn on his right. He was surrounded by a group of reporters, most with cameras, all with microphones, and Tony’s heart ached remembering when  _ he  _ had to endure the intrusive press - but Peter was handling it like a champ. He wasn’t saying a word and just kept walking, pushing through the group when they refused to move.

As Tony watched him walk, the group growing by the minute, he wondered why no one was driving the poor kid to school. Clearly his family (his  _ aunt _ , Tony corrected himself) must’ve heard the news. If she didn’t know Peter was Spider-Man before, she definitely did now - so why wasn’t she stepping in to help him?

The thought that came into Tony’s head next surprised even him - but once he thought it, he couldn’t forget it.

Tony Stark was going to drive Peter Parker to school.

Tony jumped out of his bed and practically ran down to his workshop, not wanting the kid to be bombarded for a minute longer. He called his suit to him, signalled for the roof to slide open, and flew out, heading straight for his mansion - Howard’s old house - on the mainland, where he would find a cache of cars hidden in the basement.

Tony always wanted to ensure he had a backup residence, or at least a safe house, in case something went south, but he didn’t want to purchase a new one for fear of sending out a signal that said,  _ Hey! I’m still alive!  _ So, Howard’s house.

Tony brought his suit to land in the backyard, where, once again, a portion of the floor opened and he dropped down into a second, more simple, workshop. He knew his father was (for some reason) _beloved by all_ , and so Tony was always prepared for superfans or police alike to randomly show up and take a look around the house. Tony could never be too careful by creating a second (third?) residence underground.

He disengaged his suit as he proceeded through the workshop to the garage to find his cars. He needed the perfect one that said,  _ I am the Iron Assassin. Don’t screw with me _ . His eyes landed on a 2016 Audi R8 - in black, of course. Perfect.

Tony grabbed the frame of the car and pulled himself in through the waiting, open window - it felt much cooler to literally jump in the car than to use the door - and revved the engine, before slamming the gas pedal to the floor and speeding out of the garage. He kept the window down while he was still out of the city,  because there was no one out to see him (and even if there was, Tony was going way too fast for them to identify him). Plus, he hadn’t driven in  _ forever _ \- he always flew to the mainland and had no reason to drive around his island - and this, feeling the wind in his face and the engine purr beneath his feet, this felt  _ good _ .

As soon as the buildings became more dense, Tony regretfully closed his window and eased his foot off the gas, so he was  _ cruising  _ rather than simply speeding. He asked JARVIS to pull up directions to Peter’s location on his dashboard GPS, then leaned back in his chair, sunglasses on, and drove.

He didn’t think about what he was going to say when he got to Peter, which was why when Tony found the kid, he simply pulled up his car and drove beside him, windows still rolled up.

Tony’s mouth suddenly went dry. He had no idea how to convince a young, naïve hero to get into a sort-of stranger, villain’s car, so it was a good thing the reporters were blocking Peter’s view and the kid didn’t seem to have noticed him yet.

The reporters were  _ loud _ . Tony could hear them from inside the car, shouting questions about how long Peter had been a hero and how he made his webs - but some were asking questions that were just  _ wrong _ , ones that should never be asked to a fifteen-year-old. Where were his parents that they allowed him to do this? (That one made Tony flinch.) What was his relationship to the other Avengers, the Black Widow specifically? (Tony was ready to jump out of the car and punch that interviewer in the nose.)

But that was just how the press worked, and Tony needed to put an end to it.

Tony honked the horn, two quick beeps that made the nearest reporters jump. They turned to scowl at him, but continued following after Peter. Tony just rolled his eyes and laid into the horn, slamming his hand against it until the entire group was turning to stare in disgust - and then in wonder when they saw the car itself.

Peter, to his credit, didn’t turn around, so Tony rolled down the window, and was immediately met with cameras in his face. He looked past them, sunglasses still on, and pointed a finger to where Peter was walking determinedly away, head down.

One reporter, nearest to Peter, got the hint, and went to tap on the poor kid’s shoulder. Tony wanted to yell at him to get his hand off the kid, but the contact got the message across, and Peter turned, finally taking notice of the car.

He stepped toward it warily, the reporters clearing a path for him, and he leaned down to see through the window - and almost stumbled back at who he saw inside. The reporters, thank goodness, didn’t seem to catch this - they were too focused on the mystery man in the cool car, picking up Spider-Man.

“Get in, kid,” Tony called, although regulating his volume so the reporters didn’t hear. “I’ll give you a ride to school, s’you can escape these vultures.”

Peter’s face paled and he shook his head quickly. Tony just sighed.

“Listen, I don’t know what you expect me to do. I wouldn’t…  _ attack  _ you, or anything. You know how expensive this car is? I don’t want your blood on these leather seats anymore than you do.” Tony laughed at his own words, but sobered quickly when he noticed Peter grow paler. He had to get the kid into his car  _ now _ , because the reporters were recovering from their shock, and were about to pounce.

“Look, Pete, I want  _ Captain America _ , alright? It’s got nothing to do with you. It’s just a ride to school. If you want, you can deny it, and finish the - what, ten minutes of walking surrounded by cameras and microphones. Is that what you want?”

Peter looked conflicted, brow furrowed and eyes in constant motion, searching the inside of the car (for weapons?) - until, finally, he sighed and pulled open the door to the car. Tony turned his head to face forward, smirking, as Peter settled in beside him (Tony tried to ignore the way Peter winced as he twisted his body, jostling his right shoulder). Tony sped away as soon as Peter’s door was closed, leaving the reporters in the dust, and Peter to click on his seatbelt as Tony maneuvered through traffic.

“So, school?” Tony asked as soon as the group of reporters fell away behind him. “You sure you wanna go? You’ll be swarmed by your classmates.” Peter didn’t respond, but Tony didn’t think much of it. He kept his eyes on the road. “I can drop you off at home, if you want. Take the day off.”

Heavy breathing caused Tony to turn his head sharply to the right, and see Peter - Peter, whose face was pale and eyes wide as he stared straight ahead, body tense against the seat. Tony flicked his eyes back to the road to ensure they weren’t going to crash, then looked back at Peter.

“Pete? You alright?” he asked cautiously, and Peter’s eyes fluttered in the form of a flinch. “What is it, kid? Talk to me.”

“I don’t-” Peter whispered, before taking a deep breath. “I don’t have my webshooters.”

“Why would you need them?” Tony scoffed - and then he saw the way Peter was looking at him, his eyes wide and red, his chest heaving with every breath. In Peter’s eyes, this wasn’t just a drive with him and Tony. This was Spider-Man, without his suit, at the mercy of the Iron Assassin.

Tony forced himself to swallow his sarcasm. This wasn’t the time. This wasn’t the snarky Iron Assassin, dealing with a sarcastic superhero. This was Tony Stark, dealing with a scared, fifteen-year-old kid.

Tony quieted his voice. “Peter, I promise you, I’m not going to hurt you, okay?”

Peter’s eyes, if possible, widened. “You  _ shot  _ me yesterday.”

“Okay, yeah, but that was non-fatal. Plus, you were attacking me with your webs, kid. It was self-defense.”

“A villain is not allowed to argue self-defense,  _ especially  _ not when attacking a hero.”

Tony was glad to see a bit of colour returning to Peter’s face. “What if the hero initiated the fight?”

“What if the hero only  _ began _ the fight because the villain isolated him and flew him up to the top of a building?”

Tony turned his head to look at Peter, surprised to see a small smile growing on the kid’s face as he stared ahead. Tony smirked in response as he returned his attention to the road.

“Touché,” Tony finally answered with a shrug. “Alright, so, school?” Tony couldn’t help but marvel at how insane this was, fighting Spider-Man one day and driving him to school the next.

Peter shrugged, turning to look out the window. “People are going to be looking at me funny, huh?” he asked quietly, and Tony’s heart ached for all Peter had to go through at such a young age.

“Yeah, they will be,” Tony answered simply.

“But even if I skip today, they’ll just be more curious tomorrow.”

“Yes, but you’re still allowed to take a day off,” Tony reasoned. “Figure out how to deal with it.”

Peter nodded in agreeance before tensing in his chair and turning suddenly to face Tony, brow furrowed. “You’re the one that sent in the anonymous comment,” he accused sharply.

Tony didn’t know why he felt like he had gotten caught with a secret. It was pretty obvious that he had been the one to tell the press - or, at least, it should’ve been obvious to  _ Peter _ .

“Yeah,” Tony answered slowly, drawing out the word. He felt almost…  _ ashamed  _ to admit it. “I thought you would’ve realized as soon as it was announced.”

Peter let his mouth fall open as he turned back to face the front. He looked like he was at a loss for words. “I mean, I…  _ did  _ realize, but I didn’t really connect the dots, I guess. This morning, it was like,  _ Oh, the evil villain revealed my identity _ , but now I can actually put a name to the face, and-” Peter cut himself off sharply, and Tony turned to look at him quizzically, surprised by how much the kid was talking, and then how suddenly he stopped.

Peter turned to look at Tony sheepishly. “Uh, what’s- what’s your name?”

Tony barked out a laugh, and he heard Peter join in quietly from beside him. “Tony,” he answered simply, and saw Peter nod in his peripherals.

“How do you know I won’t leak  _ that  _ to the press?” Peter said shyly, but with a hint of humor in his voice. He was trying to be funny, but he wasn’t really sure if he was allowed to be. The thought made Tony want to giggle. Geez, this kid was adorable.

“What would you say?  _ The Iron Assassin is... Tony! _ Sorry, kid, but not many people would listen to that.”

“Wait. The Iron Assassin?”

Oh, right. Tony’s villain name wasn’t internationally known yet.

_ Actually _ , Tony realized with a start,  _ no one knows it - except for this one fifteen year old _ .

Tony should hire a publicist.

“Yeah. You’re Spider-Man, I’m the Iron Assassin.”

“Did you come up with that name, or did someone give it to you?”

“I came up with it.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“Why not?”

“Heroes - or, villains, too, I guess - don’t come up with their own names. Grateful civilians give it to them.”

“Or terrified civilians.” Peter turned in his seat to glare at Tony, but the man just shrugged. “Anyway, back to the matter at hand. School? No school?”

Peter shrugged. “I don’t really wanna go.”

“Yeah, I agree. So, where d’you live?”  _ I have to pretend I didn’t stalk you _ , Tony remembered amusedly.

Peter glared at Tony. “I’m not telling  _ you  _ that.”

“Why, cause I’m a stranger? Come on, we’ve fought together, you know me-”

“Yeah, we’ve  _ fought  _ together. You shot me. I’m not giving you my home address.”

“ _ Oh _ . Right. The other reason. Because I’m a quote-unquote villain.” Peter nodded as if to say,  _ duh _ . “Well, I’m not dropping you off on the side of the road to get swarmed by paparazzi again.” Tony kept the conversation going nonchalantly as he turned toward the Parker residence. If Peter  _ did  _ make Tony drop him off, he didn’t want the kid to have to walk far.

“That doesn’t matter to me. I’ll walk, it’s not far-” Peter cut himself off to facepalm with a sigh. “Damn. I forgot, my aunt’s not even home. She had to work, and I don’t have a key.” He sighed, leaning back in his chair and looking defeated. “Fine. Just drop me off at school.”

“I could pick the lock,” Tony joked with a cheeky grin, but Peter just glared at him. “Joking. But, hey, you clearly don’t want to go.” Then, before Tony could stop himself, he blurted, “My place?”

Peter looked up at him in surprise. “What, you gonna lock me in a cell once we’re there or something?” His voice was sarcastic, but Tony could easily identify the look in his eyes. He was scared.

“Peter, you gotta understand, I don’t wanna hurt you, alright?”

“You shot me.”

“ _ Again  _ with that?” Tony ran a hand over his face, keeping the other on the wheel as he turned away from the Parker residence and toward his own home ( _ Howard _ ’s home). “To be fair, I  _ did  _ warn you.”

“Before you shot me.”

“Yes! Yes, I shot you, alright?” Tony looked over at the kid after a moment of silence, and realized that he had spoken just a tad too aggressively for a villain that had essentially kidnapped a fifteen-year-old superhero.

He sighed, forcing his voice to quiet before continuing. “Look, do you want to come with me, or not? You say the word, and I’ll turn around and drop you off at school, and you can be bombarded by a bunch of pubescent kids all day. It’s your choice.”

Peter took a deep breath, before nodding slightly. “Okay,” he sighed. “I’ll come with you.” Tony bit back a smile as he put on his flashing to turn right, out of the city. “Let’s go explore your evil layer.”

“You know it’s just a normal house, right?” Tony tried to say, but Peter just shrugged. “What do you expect it to look like?”

“Stone walls, no lights, spiderwebs in every corner, and a dungeon for a basement?”

Tony laughed again, and this time Peter joined in shamelessly, his volume equalling that of Tony’s. “Wrong on all counts… except for the spiderwebs. I mean, I haven’t really been there in a while.”

“Wait, hold up.” Peter held up a hand, his expression one of mock seriousness. “You didn’t tell me your house had  _ spiders _ . I would’ve chosen school instead.”

“No!” Tony gasped dramatically. “The Spider-Man is afraid of spiders?”

“It’s not  _ the  _ Spider-Man, it’s just Spider-Man,” Peter corrected. “And just because I have the power of spiders, doesn’t mean I have to like them. You’re the  _ Iron Assassin _ . What, do you eliminate wrinkles from clothes?”

“Hey, was that a dad joke?” Tony scolded playfully. “Aren’t I supposed to be the one making those?” Peter didn’t speak for a moment. “Because I’m the older male,” Tony rushed to correct, hands tightening on the wheel. Peter chuckled quietly.

“You know, you’re not too bad for a villain.”

“Thanks. You’re not awful yourself… I mean, for a hero.”

Peter smiled. “Thanks.”

Suddenly, a thought crossed Tony’s mind that made him want to slam the breaks. “Wait, do I have to call your school to sign you out?”


	5. Personal Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter learns who Tony is - or, who his father was. Tony explains his point of view to Peter. Morals get questioned.

Tony pulled the car into Howard’s driveway and turned the key, cutting off Back in Black half way through the guitar riff, leaving the vehicle in silence - comfortable and confident for Tony, uncomfortable and frightening for Peter.

Tony yanked the key out of the ignition and exited the car without a thought, slamming the door and reaching for the button on his fob to lock it, but freezing when he felt the absence of one Peter Parker. He turned sharply back to the car, but he couldn’t see anything through the tinted windows, and instead opted to walk around to the passenger’s side and pull the door open. Peter’s wide eyes stared back.

“You planning on getting out anytime soon?”

Peter looked like Tony’s words had just signed his death warrant, and he slowly moved to pull himself out of the car. Tony stood back and held the door open for him, then leaned on it as Peter stood and reached his full height.

“You’re still scared.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement; but Peter shook his head and stood straighter.

“No, I’m not.”

“You definitely are.”

“Am not.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I am Spider-Man, and I’m not afraid of you!”

Tony smirked at Peter, who was standing with his back straight (to hide the quivering in his shoulders), and his eyes defiant (to hide the fear). “Impressive, young buck,” Tony praised as he slammed the car door shut. He chose to ignore how Peter flinched at the loud noise. “You sure do know how to hold your own.”

Tony turned and led the way to the front door of the house, ignoring the section of walkway that would fall away to form a staircase down to his workshop if he pressed a specific tile. Tony didn’t know why he had saved Peter from the paparazzi, or invited him to his house. Was it because he pitied the kid, or related to him, or was Peter a threat Tony had to get rid of? (Tony turned to look at Peter as he thought this. Peter gave a small, nervous smile in return. Definitely not a threat.)

Whatever the reason, Tony wasn’t ready to let Peter see his workshop. There was no reason for him to, especially because Peter might go running to tell the other Avengers at the first chance he got. So, no. As far as Peter was concerned, Tony lived in a random mansion (because, let’s be honest, the kid was too young to know about  _ The Great Howard Stark _ ).

Tony unlocked the front door with a key he hadn’t used in years and led the way inside. He heard Peter’s slow, quiet footfalls following him, and smirked as he walked straight into the kitchen, shoes still on.

He could sense Peter’s trepidation from behind him. The kid was  _ terrified _ , and it was kind of cute to see, but also sad. Did he not see that Tony was trying to  _ help  _ him? Tony wasn’t a monster; he really wasn’t. If he was, Howard had made him this way with all the neglect and disrespect - but he  _ wasn’t _ . He was just a man, trying to make things right. Why didn’t Peter see that?

Tony would make Peter see that.

“Come in,” Tony called behind him when Peter hesitated in the doorway. “If I’m going to be watching over you all day, I want you to be comfortable, at least.” Tony raised a hand to point toward a chair at the kitchen table, but Peter walked past it, instead opting to sit on the couch in the next room over. Tony smirked in response to Peter’s defiant stare as he walked over to join the kid.

“So,” he said as he sat on the furthest side of the couch from Peter. “What did you think the kitchen chair was? Trap door? Restraints in the arm rests?” Peter shrugged, staring straight ahead, his posture stiff. Tony, on the other hand, was sprawled comfortably, arms laid across the backrests as he slouched against the seat.

“Peter. Hey.” Peter turned his head to glare at Tony. “If I wanted to hurt you, kid, I would’ve done it already, but I  _ don’t _ . Look, I did you a favour, saved you from the vultures. I did that to  _ help _ you.”

“Why?”

“Ah, the million-dollar question.” Now, how did Tony say,  _ I don’t know? _ “You needed help. I provided it.” That was a safe (enough) answer, right?

“ _ Why? _ ” Apparently not.

“I don’t know, kid. You gonna keep asking questions, or you gonna say thank you?”

Peter blushed, looking ashamed. “Thanks,” he mumbled, looking away from Tony to the opposite side of the room.

“You’re welcome,” Tony replied, smiling softly. “Now, you’ve got a day to yourself, so what-”

Suddenly, Peter sprang to his feet and hurried to the opposite side of the room, where he had caught sight of a few floating shelves- Tony groaned. Floating shelves filled with all of Howard’s awards.

Tony hadn’t even thought to clean up within the last ten years he had used Howard’s basement as shelter. He obviously hadn’t been expecting any visitors, so didn’t deem it important enough. Now, however, with Peter’s hungry-looking eyes scouring over every single plaque, Tony deeply regretted his laziness.

“Howard Stark?  _ The  _ Howard Stark?” Peter turned, just for a second, to stare at Tony with wide eyes before turning back to the many trophies and awards. Tony didn’t know how to answer. He didn’t even think the kid  _ knew  _ Howard-

“Wait.” Peter turned back to Tony with sudden seriousness. He quieted his voice to a harsh whisper. “Did we just  _ break in  _ to Howard Stark’s house?”

Tony froze suddenly, looking at Peter with wide eyes. The kid looked… he looked  _ mad _ , like Tony had destroyed his favourite toy. His eyes were narrowed, and his fingers were twitching, like they were ready to throw a punch.

“You really care about this  _ Howard Stark  _ guy?” Tony asked, wanting to play along for a minute, see how Peter thought of his childhood villain.

“He was the world’s leading engineer. He’s my hero, and  _ you  _ just broke into his house!”

“He’s not a hero,” Tony muttered through gritted teeth. He could feel his face growing hotter with every word that came out of Peter’s mouth.

“Do you know that he created a _flying car?_ Or, he was working on one, anyway. _And_ , he made Captain America’s shield! I bet _he_ was the one that made your Iron Assassin suit, too, wasn’t he?” Tony shook his head tightly, not trusting himself to speak - but it was such a miniscule action, Peter didn’t take notice of it.

“He made such incredible things  _ you  _ could never dream of,” Peter challenged, chin held high to look Tony in the eyes. “He gave back to the community. He was a  _ hero _ -”

“He’s not a hero!” Tony shouted as he sprang to his feet, chest heaving. His eyes were wild, filled with anger and resentment and a thousand other ugly emotions bubbling to the surface at once, sadness and anxiety and frustration and disgust. Peter shrunk back, shoulders caving into himself at Tony’s sudden outburst - but he wasn’t done.

“You’re just jealous.”

“Of  _ that  _ monster?” Tony laughed, the sound cruel, malicious. “Never.”

“ _ Monster? _ ” Peter challenged, slowly regaining his confidence. “How do you know? You don’t have the right to judge him. You don’t know him as well as I do. I studied him in school, I read about him online, I watched reruns of his segments on the news, I bought old newspapers.”

Tony waited for him to finish, eyes narrowed and calculating as Peter got more riled up by the minute. When he finally settled down, Tony cocked his head and gave a joyless smirk.

“I’m his son.”

Peter froze, his mouth falling open and eyes growing wide. He looked to the trophies, then back to Tony, and back to the trophies, again and again, until he froze his attention on Tony and a hand flew to his mouth.

“I-” He looked for words to say. “You- He-” Tony just watched Peter, waiting for the boy to organize his thoughts, until Peter took a deep breath and tried again. “I didn’t know he  _ had  _ a son.”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t have,” Tony answered absentmindedly, picking at his nails. “How old are you? Twelve?” he asked, knowing full well Peter was-

“Fifteen.”

Tony nodded. “You were too young to remember when it happened, and everyone forgot after a few months….” Tony trailed off, ignoring Peter’s confused expression to figure out how to best begin the story. He held a hand out to gesture to the couch behind him, and Peter slowly took a seat, Tony joining him immediately after.

“Ten years ago - you were five - I was kidnapped by a terrorist organization called the Ten Rings. They forced me to make an explosive weapon, said they would set me free when I finished. I realized that obviously, they-”

“Were lying,” Peter finished, and Tony looked over at him with a small smile and a nod.

“Yeah,” he answered softly. “I knew I had to get out of there as fast as I could, so, with the help of a second captive that was there with me, Ho Yinsen, I created Mark I of what is now the Iron Assassin suit.”

Peter’s eyes were wide and he was leaning slightly forward as he listened, engrossed in the story. Tony was glad to see it.

“I escaped with the suit, but everyone - they thought I was dead. They had stopped looking for me.”

“But you  _ weren’t _ .”

“Uh, yeah, doy.  _ They  _ didn’t know that, though. They called off all the searches, and I was stranded in a desert in the middle of Afghanistan.” Tony found himself gnawing on his lip as he got trapped in the memory. His hand was clenching into a fist in his lap, nails digging into his palms. The pain usually brought him back to the present, but it wasn’t now, meaning he just had to press  _ harder _ -

The sudden placement of another hand over his own had Tony jolting back to reality in surprise, and he looked down to see Peter, attempting to pry his hand open. Tony smiled at him gratefully, and the worried boy removed his hand as Tony clasped his own together.

“My suit had just enough power to fly me out of the desert, to a nearby village. From there, I travelled between villages by donkey, on foot, whatever I had to do to get myself back here.” He held up his arms to gesture at the space around him.

“But why….” Peter took a deep breath before speaking, as if he was scared to ask his question. “Why are you upset with… Steve?”

Tony smiled, a crooked, evil thing. The question he had been waiting for. His chance to redeem himself, to prove his truth, in at least  _ one  _ person’s eyes.

“Steve Rogers was the son my father wanted, but never had. I was the disappointment, and he let me know it.” Peter’s horrified eyes rose to Tony’s, but he just shrugged nonchalantly. “I’ve accepted it. Moved on. Favouritism. I could deal with that. But then, the star-spangled shithead went and got himself another strike.”

Peter leaned forward, hanging on to Tony’s every word.

“Captain America. Saviour of Americans, right?” Tony shook his head, voice rising with every word. “Not to me. You know, for how much my dad hyped him up, Rogers never came to my aid. He left me to rot in a cave, being tortured and waterboarded daily. He never saved me!” Tony was yelling now, emotions breaking through the floodgates. He had never gotten to discuss this before. Well, he had told JARVIS, but that was different. Sentient as he was, JARVIS wasn’t human, and, well, Tony hadn’t spoken to one of  _ those  _ in years.

“He was… in the ice,” Peter said slowly, trying to make sense of the information given to him. If there was a simple solution available, why wasn’t Tony finding it?

“He gave up to put himself there,” Tony answered, teeth clenched. “Couldn’t he have disengage the bombs? Land the plane on the ice rather than dive it under? Submerge it, then swim out? No.” Tony shook his head, expression bitter. “There were other ways out. He chose to give up on Americans. He gave up on  _ me _ .”

Tony turned to Peter after a moment of silence, and saw the boy looking… sympathetic, almost pitying. His brow was furrowed and he was looking to the floor, gnawing on his lip.

“Why did he crash the plane?” Peter asked slowly, voice barely above a whisper. It was as if he was coming to terms with something he had never realized before, understanding something he didn’t want to. “Why did he give up?”

“He’s selfish,” Tony answered simply, rubbing his hands together. “Suicidal, who knows. The point is, he said he was going to  _ protect  _ us. He did the opposite.”

The two sat in silence, each in their own minds, accompanied by their own thoughts. Peter seemed more comfortable around Tony now. It felt like they were connected somehow, the only two in the universe with this specific piece of knowledge, the  _ truth _ .

“Who knows you’re alive?” Peter asked after a minute, picking at his nails.

Tony thought for a moment. “You, and Rogers. I took off my mask, wanted him to see my face just when I was about to go in for the kill, but… you stopped me.” Peter looked guilty for a minute before Tony realized something that had previously slipped his mind. “Hey, how’s your shoulder?”

The guilt immediately washed from Peter’s face. “I stopped your attack, you shot me. We’re even now,” he hurried to say, as if eager to extinguish his own guilt. Tony smirked as Peter reached for the collar of his shirt and pulled it downward, revealing the almost-invisible scar to Tony, who looked on in astonishment. He reached out a hand, then looked at Peter. When they boy nodded, Tony pressed his fingers to the skin around the scar. It was completely smooth, as if the scar was simply a mark drawn on with marker.

“How is it healed already?” Tony asked, only taking his eyes off the scar when Peter readjusted his shirt to cover it.

Peter shrugged. “I was bitten by a radioactive spider a few years ago. It gave me some… special abilities, advanced healing being one of them.”

“So the bite is what made you Spider-Man?”

Peter looked offended. “The bite is what gave me my powers. What I do with those powers is what makes me Spider-Man.”

Tony laughed, and Peter smiled in response - but too soon, that smile fell from his face. Tony looked at him in worry.

“You alright there, kid?”

Peter shrugged. “Have you ever believed something your whole life, to one day find out it was all a lie?” Tony wanted to laugh.  _ All the time.  _ Instead, he stayed quiet and let Peter continue. “I always loved Captain America. He was my  _ hero _ . I mean, my literal, saving-the-earth hero. Your… dad was my personal hero.” Tony wanted to scowl at the words, but held himself still, waiting for what the kid was going to say next.

“Now, I find that it was all a lie. None of those people deserved my, or  _ anyone’s _ , admiration, and you, my very first villain besides petty robbers and car thieves, seem to be the only…  _ sane  _ person here. Is that crazy?”

Tony smiled as he shook his head and placed a gentle, comforting hand on Peter’s knee - and Peter seemed entirely comfortable with it. He wasn’t jumping out of his skin, like he would’ve done that morning.

Tony shook his head. “Not at all, Pete. That might actually be the most rational realization of your life.”

Peter nodded, fiddling with his hands. He looked uncomfortable, like he didn’t want to come to terms with this, with all of his heroes being the villain of a different story.

“So… what do we do now?” he asked shakily, and Tony stood from the couch. A change of topic meant a change in position.

“You get back to your aunt,” Tony answered, voice lighter. “Tell her you got sick, had to stay home from school. You didn’t have the office’s phone number to call them.”

“I don’t get sick. Spidey-powers, remember?”

“Your aunt doesn’t know about your spider-powers, remember?” Peter blushed. Tony continued. “And don’t challenge me the next time I go for Cap, okay?”

Peter gnawed on his lip, clearly uncomfortable, conflicted between his childhood beliefs and what he now knew to be true. “When do you think you’re going to try again?”

Tony shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked around the room, if only to avoid meeting Peter’s conflicted gaze. (Tony feared it would make  _ him  _ conflicted, too - but he couldn’t afford that, not when he was this close to succeeding.) “Dunno, kid. Just, stay away from those so-called Avengers, okay? They’re really not as good as they claim to be. They all have secrets.”

Peter nodded, face growing serious as he stood to meet Tony’s gaze. “I’m, uh, sorry I stopped you those times.”

Tony smiled, reaching a hand up to ruffle Peter’s curls, but the boy ducked out of the way with a chuckle. “Don’t worry about it, kiddie. You thought you were doing what was right. Now you know the truth.”

Their conversation was interrupted when Tony’s phone rang.

Tony froze in shock. His phone  _ didn’t  _ ring. There was no one to call him. He had zero contact with the outside world before this week, and he had told JARVIS to block all telemarketers from getting through. This was an actual person - an actual person wanting to speak to  _ him _ .

With trembling fingers, Tony reached for his phone in his pocket and checked the number. It was… vaguely familiar, matched with feelings of warmth and happiness. It wasn’t his  _ mother’s  _ number, right? ( _ No, idiot, no one would be calling you from your mom’s phone _ , he realized.)

Taking a deep breath, Tony pressed  _ Accept _ , and held the phone to his ear.

“Tones?” Tony’s world came to a screeching halt when he heard the voice on the other end. “Tony Stark?” The voice was shaky, like the person on the other end was just barely holding it together, like they were fighting to keep composure.

Tony physically couldn’t respond. The voice… it brought back too many memories, too many special days, too many images Tony would never be able to see again. Too much happiness.

“I-I hear breathing,” the voice continued. “Tones, if this - if this is  _ really  _ you, I can’t- I- I need you to say something,  _ please _ , I can’t-” The voice cut itself off, and Tony turned away from Peter’s worried gaze so he was facing the opposite wall. Tony couldn’t let Peter see the way his hand flew up to cover his mouth, the way tears sprung to his eyes.

_ Say something _ , Tony yelled to himself internally - but he couldn’t. There was something keeping him from speaking, from reaching his arm out and saying,  _ I’m here. _ There was  _ fear _ . Fear of things not working out as they used to. Fear that the relationship would never be the same way again.

“Shit,” the voice finally mumbled to itself. “I knew- I  _ knew  _ it couldn’t be true-”

“Rhodes.” The strangled name was ripped from Tony’s lips, his throat rough and his voice hoarse from that single word.

The other end was silent. Was Tony too late? Did James already hang up? Did Tony do something  _ wrong? _

“No,” James finally answered, voice quiet, unbelieving. “It can’t  _ possibly  _ be you. You were  _ dead _ . I mourned you. Heck, I planned your  _ funeral _ -”

“It  _ is _ . It is me, Rhodes, I swear-”

“ _ Ten years _ .” James’ voice was shattered. If broken glass could speak, this was what it would sound like. Brittle. Fragile. Fighting a losing battle to stay together. “You were dead for  _ ten years _ -”

“I know.” Tony was blinking furiously, trying to keep his tears back. “I know,  _ gosh _ , Rhodes, I know-”

“You  _ don’t _ , Tony,” James cut him off, his voice more furious, but still choked with tears. “Do you know I couldn’t sleep? Couldn’t  _ eat?  _ It took me a month to get out of bed. Two until I went outside again. I could barely make it to your funeral-”

A sob broke on the other end of the line, and James fell silent, breathing as he tried to compose himself. Tony squeezed his eyes shut, holding back tears.

“I need to see you,” James finally continued softly. “That’s- it’s the only way I’ll believe it to be true.”

Tony nodded eagerly from his end, if only for his own benefit. “Of course- yeah, yes-”

“Right now. You know where.”

The line went dead, and Tony stood still, the phone still pressed to his ear, reeling.  _ I’m going to see him again _ , Tony thought to himself, his heart tap-dancing in response.  _ I’m going to see him again, and- _

Peter cleared his throat, and Tony turned slowly, letting his phone fall from his ear to hang in his limp hand at his side. Peter looked at him like,  _ What? _ and Tony fought to contain his expression as not to give anything away.

“Nothing.” He shook his head slightly and smiled. “Don’t worry about it. Now, we need to get you home.” If Tony didn’t know any better, he’d say Peter looked  _ disappointed. _

“How am I supposed to just…  _ live  _ now, knowing what I know?” Peter asked quietly, and Tony sighed.  _ Look, kid, I’d love to contemplate the universe with you, but not right now. I have someone important to meet with _ .

“Don’t know, bud,” he answered, stepping towards the door to try to usher Peter out. “It’s something you gotta figure out for yourself. For me, it happened all at once. One big, traumatic realization. You’ll have to come to terms with it a different way.”

Tony didn’t look back as he led the way outside and climbed into the car, Peter following, albeit more slowly, into the passenger seat. He pulled out of the driveway, barely thinking about how silent Peter was beside him - he was only focused on meeting Rhodes. Seeing him after so,  _ so _ long.

“I’m sorry,” Peter finally said, and Tony was so surprised by the sudden conversation, he almost crashed the car.

“For what?”

Peter hesitated, looking out the window. “For not believing you.” Tony’s demeanor softened and he refocused his attention on the road, sensing Peter had more to say.

“It’s not fair. You’re fighting for  _ good _ , but all anyone sees is the bad, because the people you’re fighting have been faking for so long….” Peter shrugged. “I wish the whole city could see the truth, rather than the lies they’ve been fed, forced to believe.”

“Yeah, well.” Tony shrugged, keeping his tone light and eyes focused on the road. “That’s what happens when you’re fighting a battle, and your opponent had ten years to plan and lie and gain support from the crowd.”

Peter shifted in his seat as Tony pulled the car up to park in front of the Parker apartment. Reporters were surrounding the entryway. They hadn’t noticed the vehicle yet.

“Maybe… I can spread the news. Tell them the truth. They’ll believe me as Spider-Man… I hope.”

Tony shook his head. “That’s sweet of you, kid, but you shouldn’t do that. Don’t drag yourself down with me.”

“I wouldn’t be  _ dragging myself down _ -”

Tony held up a hand to cut Peter off. “I appreciate it, Pete, but no. Just… lay low, don’t say anything, and, for goodness’ sake, stop defending Captain America.”

Peter looked uncomfortable, twiddling with his fingers as he made eye contact with Tony for final confirmation. When Tony stared back seriously, Peter looked down and nodded. “Fine.”

“Good,” Tony answered almost immediately after, redirecting his attention out the front windshield. “Now, get on inside; and remember, you were sick.”

Peter nodded and reached for the handle, after sending one last reassuring smile Tony’s way. Then, he pushed open the door handle, and stepped out of the car, letting the door slam shut behind him. Tony’s last image of the kid as he drove away was Peter being swarmed by paparazzi.


	6. Ten Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and James reunite. They reminisce on their past, and consider their future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the sake of the story, let's pretend Tony was kidnapped by the Ten Rings when he was 30, so in present day, he'd be around age 40 :)

By the time Tony reached the roof of the New York Public Library, it was about two in the afternoon.

“I’m too old for this, Rhodes,” he called with a groan as he hauled himself over the top of the wall, onto the flat platform. “I’m not twenty anymore-” His words were cut off by something ramming into him, almost pushing him off the roof. It was… a person, and judging by how tight their arms were wrapping around him, and the strength with which they were crushing him-

“Rhodey?”

“Tones,” James sighed as he held his boyfriend close. Tony didn’t know how to answer - he was too busy relishing in the feeling of James’ presence once more, breathing in the scent of peppermint that always seemed to hover around him. It had been so,  _ so  _ long since Tony had last seen James. He had cut off all connections when he went off the grid, and even though that was hard, well, Tony had a mission to complete, and nothing, not even the love of his life, could get in the way.

Too soon, James was pulling away from the hug, leaving Tony grasping after him as he grabbed Tony’s shoulders and held him at arm’s length. Tony held still as James’ eyes searched him over, growing red with tears.

“Ten years,” James sighed, dropping his arms as he stared at Tony. It seemed as if he couldn’t get enough, like he was trying to make up for ten years of lost time in that one moment. “ _ Ten years _ ,” he repeated, his voice sounding as broken as Tony’s heart. “You… I searched for you. I never  _ stopped  _ searching for you. You fell off the earth.” James moved his right hand to brush against the ring finger on his left hand, and Tony found himself subconsciously doing the same. “You left me. You swore-” He sighed, bringing his voice to a harsh whisper. “You  _ promised  _ never to leave me.”

Tony stepped forward and grabbed James’ left hand in his own, placing it palm up in his right so Tony could place his own left hand on top. James looked down at their touching ring fingers, and the tattoos on them, but all Tony could do was look at his boyfriend (if that’s even what they still  _ were _ ) and admire how beautiful he was.

“They weren’t looking. They weren’t coming back for me,” Tony murmured, stroking James’ hand gently. James lifted his tear-stained eyes to meet Tony’s. “I had to take care of it myself.”

“ _ I  _ was looking,” James whispered as he gripped Tony’s hand tighter.

“I’m sorry.” That was the truth. “I had to get out of there, babe, you don’t understand-”

“And the next ten years?” James sniffled, stepping away. “What happened then?”

Tony looked at the floor as he took a step away, continuing to rub the tattoo on his ring finger. He couldn’t tell James  _ everything _ , not yet.

“I was… taking care of some stuff.”

James looked at him in disbelief. “ _ Taking care of some stuff? _ ” He took a step closer to Tony, who automatically took a step back. “You don’t  _ take care of some stuff _ after making a promise. You don’t leave someone who you were planning to run away with. That’s not how this relationship stuff works,  _ love _ .” The affectionate nickname was said with a bitter, sarcastic tone, and it made Tony flinch.

“Please, just give me a chance-”

“I planned your funeral,” James snapped, eyes wide, and Tony took another step back. “I had to stand beside stuffy CEOs and employees, and pretend I was nothing more than your best friend. I had to lie and pretend I didn’t know your favourite flowers were -  _ are _ \- larkspur, because  _ best friends  _ shouldn’t know that. I had to pretend that nothing you did had any special meaning behind it, and watch them use daisies and the colour green. I had to pretend that I didn’t know larkspur represent levity, and that blue is your favourite colour because it represents stability, tranquility, and affection, which was something you  _ always  _ wanted. I had to pretend I didn’t know you.”

James took another step forward, and Tony took a step back - but he was too close to the edge of the roof and his foot slipped. He tipped precariously over the edge, and James leaned forward to wrap his arms around Tony’s waist and keep him from falling. Tony’s stomach flipped at the moment of weightlessness, but now that he was in his boyfriend’s arms, it didn’t matter how far away the ground was, or that he would be falling if James wasn’t supporting the entirety of his weight. He had James, and everything would be okay.

“I had to pretend I didn’t love you,” James whispered as he held Tony against his chest, supporting him so he didn’t fall back off the building. Tony looked into James’ brown eyes, the ones that always reminded him of chocolate and warmth and that hidden cabin in the woods and all things good, and a calmness washed over him, a serenity that could only be accomplished between lovers, those who had given the entirety of themselves to the other person.

“I’m here now.” Tony smiled as he brought a hand up to James’ cheek, and James took a step back so they could both stand comfortably on the roof. He still didn’t let Tony go.

“Can it make up for all the years you were gone?”

Tony didn’t know how to answer. He didn’t know the words to say to make all this okay, to fix the last ten years, to rekindle the love their relationship once held - but he knew that he would do anything in his power to find them.

Tony stood on his toes so he could plant a kiss on James’ lips, slow and soft and comforting, and James returned it, memories rising of what used to be, and what might be again.

This time, Tony was the one to pull away when he felt James smile against his lips.

“Coffee?” he asked with a grin, which James immediately returned.

“Let’s get off this rooftop.”

⬩ ⬥ ⬩

Fifteen minutes and seemingly hundreds of groans of pain and curses to his age later, Tony was holding the door to a Starbucks open to let James walk ahead of him, wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses. James was wearing the same, if only to make Tony feel less conspicuous.

James moved to stand in line, Tony following immediately after and hooking his arm on James’ the minute they were together. James looked down at him and smiled, a whole-hearted toothy grin, and Tony couldn’t help but return it.

They reached the front of the line, and James ordered for both of them - a dark roast for Tony, and a vanilla-flavoured ice coffee for himself. They got their drinks and proceeded to sit at a table in the far corner with armchairs on either side, and for the first few minutes, all they could do was stare across the table and… smile.

Tony placed his hand, palm up, on the table and let James reach out and grab it with a (loving) smirk. What could he say? He was a dork in love.

James was the first to “break the spell” - although Tony wasn’t sure it could  _ ever  _ be broken - by reaching forward with the hand that  _ wasn’t  _ holding Tony’s to take a sip of his ice coffee. Tony didn’t move to drink his own; he was too focused on the man sitting across from him.

He knew he was smiling like an idiot - he could see it in James’ glasses - but he couldn’t help it. He had missed James, more than he wanted to admit. Actually, no - he would  _ willingly  _ admit how much he loved his boyfriend. He would shout it from the rooftops if he could.

Alas, he couldn’t. A, he was “dead”. B, he was Howard Stark’s son, and Howard Stark’s son couldn’t be gay.

“So.” James set his coffee down and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “You have some explaining to do.”

“Ask me anything. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

A mischievous look crossed James’ face, and he looked like he had just been handed the greatest gift to mankind, but it was wiped off his face in an instant. Tony knew that if this was a less serious situation, if this conversation were happening ten years ago  _ before  _ he had disappeared, Tony would be in a  _ world  _ of trouble for saying what he just had.

“Where have you been these last ten years?”

Tony paused for a minute. “Howard’s mansion.” Well, it wasn’t a  _ complete _ lie… sort of. ( _ Wow. Great start to rekindling a relationship, Tones _ .)

James froze. “You  _ hate  _ Howard. Why didn’t you come to me? I would’ve taken you in.”

Tony smiled gratefully, but leaned back in his chair and shook his head. “I wanted to be invisible. I didn’t really want anyone to know….”

“You weren’t dead,” James finished. Tony nodded, and James loosened his grip on Tony’s hand. Tony’s eyes flickered down to it, but he forced himself to keep smiling. He might’ve just wanted to stop holding hands. It wasn’t anything Tony had said… right?

“Who knows?”

Tony picked up his coffee and took a sip to have something to do with his hands. “Who knows what?”

“Who knows you’re not dead?”

Tony pretended to think for a moment as he set down his cup and looked at the table. “Captain America and Spider-Man.”

James scoffed and withdrew his hand, replacing Tony’s hand with his coffee as he took another sip. “If you didn’t want to answer, you could’ve just told me.”

“No - no, I’m serious. They know, but they’re the only two,” Tony hurried to amend, his hand cold from the sudden lack of contact.

“Are you sure?” James scoffed. “The Black Widow doesn’t know? You didn’t tell Dr. Banner or Hawkeye?”

“Babe, please-” James shook his head, effectively cutting Tony off. “What?”

James sighed, avoiding eye contact, looking instead to where he was drumming his fingers on his mug. “Let’s… avoid the pet names for now,” he said slowly, and Tony felt a pang in his chest. His eyes narrowed and he leaned forward, forcing James to look at him.

“What do you mean?”

“I just… I don’t know, it’s been ten years, and-”

“Did you move on?”

“Did I- no, Tony, geez-”

“Did you?” Tony repeated, voice growing louder, more intense. “Look, I wouldn’t blame you. I was gone for a long time, but if you did, if you found another guy, tell me now-”

“Tony!” James reached across the table and gripped Tony’s left hand in his own, connecting the rings they had tattooed around their fingers. It was a single black line, but it was enough for them - at least, since they couldn’t get real rings. “We were going to  _ elope _ . I wouldn’t just forget that as soon as- as you  _ left _ -”

James had to cut himself off and he looked down at the table, breathing deeply. It was only when he took off his glasses to wipe at his eyes that Tony realized-

“Are you  _ crying? _ ”

James sniffled and put his glasses back in place, looking up at Tony.

“We were going to get married. You left me.  _ Ten years _ . Ten… ten  _ fucking  _ years-”

James stood from his chair all at once, Tony’s hand flopping back onto the table when James released it. Tony watched in momentarily shock as James hurried out of the door, rubbing at his face on the way. Tony rushed after him, calling his name, but James didn’t turn, not until the library was within view. He stopped then and stared after it, waiting for Tony to come to a stop beside him.

“Ba- Rhodes, what was that?”

James stuffed his hands in his pockets and kept his eyes on the building. “This was where it happened, remember?” he said quietly, and Tony suddenly realized why James had led them here.

_ Tony leaned against a building across the street from the library, waiting for James to show up. His head was tilted back as he looked up at the night sky, searching for the constellations Maria had taught him about. Hercules was his favourite. Hercules had always been his favourite. When he was younger, it was because Maria had told him the hero had come out especially for his birthday to say hello. When he got older, it was because Hercules represented strength, bravery, and tenacity, which were traits Tony so desperately needed. _

_ The night was still and quiet. There weren’t usually people hanging around the New York Public Library at twelve in the morning, meaning there were no cameras, no press. Tony let himself relax and tilted his head back until it was resting against the wall of the building behind him, closing his eyes and listening to the sound of cars on the Queensboro Bridge in the distance. _

_ “Hey!” Tony snapped his head up at the sound of a voice that could only belong to one person - his platypus. He looked around eagerly, but frowned when he saw nothing. Did he dream it? Tony checked his watch again. New York Public Library at twelve. He had the time and location right, he was sure, so where was- _

_ “Up here!” _

_ Tony’s eyes followed the voice until he saw someone waving at him from the top of the library. Was that… Rhodey? On the  _ roof _? _

_ Tony ran across the street, barely pausing to watch for cars, and stood at the base of the steps, looking up at James. _

_ “How did you get up there?” _

_ James just smirked and waved down at him. Tony mimed jumping and trying to reach the roof, and James laughed. The sound alone brought a smile to Tony’s lips. “Here,” James finally called down between giggles. “Come around back.” _

_ Tony followed James’ instructions - “Climb up that lamp post.” “Step on that beam- no, the one on your right-  _ other  _ right-” and found himself hanging to the top of the wall by his hands, feet dangling below him. James came over and grabbed Tony by his elbows, pulling him up with a strength only those in the army would have. _

_ James lifted Tony, but didn’t give him enough room to stand on the roof and ended up supporting the man by his waist, letting him lean back off the building. To his surprise, Tony showed no signs of fear or worry. _

_ “I trust you,” Tony said simply, shrugging, and James beamed at him before pulling him in for a kiss - and then threw Tony over his shoulder like a pack of potatoes. _

_ “Hey!” Tony giggled as James led them closer to the centre of the roof. “Put me-” _

_ “Shh,” James shushed him gently as he brought Tony to the ground. “Cops. I don’t know if you know this, but we’re not  _ technically  _ supposed to be up here-” _

_ Tony lightly shoved James’ shoulder, chuckling under his breath. _

_ “Alright,” James said suddenly, putting his hands on his hips. “Close your eyes.” _

_ Tony was quick to comply, placing his hands over his eyes with obvious gaps between his fingers. James wiggled his own fingers between the gaps, and Tony laughed as he moved them closer together, fear for the safety of his eyes overpowering any curiosity he had for- _

_ “Ta-da!” James whisper-shouted, and Tony let his hands fall away from his face, to see James standing triumphantly, although with a small blush on his cheeks, holding a cupcake proudly in front of him. There was a candle in the middle of the frosting, but it wasn’t lit. “Happy 28th birthday!” _

_ Tony shook his head, smiling fondly as he stepped forward to “blow out” the candle, making silly faces at James the whole time. James giggled, then broke the cupcake in half and gave a part of it to Tony, who accepted it with a smile. The two settled on the rooftop, sitting across from each other, cross-legged. _

_ By the time Tony was about half-way done his piece of the cupcake, the smile had fallen from his lips, and he was looking forlornly at the rooftop below him. _

_ “I can’t do this anymore,” he muttered, toying with the cupcake in his hands. Pieces crumbled onto the rooftop. _

_ “Do what?” James had set his cupcake down on the liner on the roof beside him, giving his full attention to Tony. Tony figured returning his gaze was the least he could do for James making such a big sacrifice for him. _

_ “Stark Industries… it’s been seven years since I took control, and I expected it to get easier, but it’s just  _ not _. Obie’s constantly on my ass about one thing or another, and everywhere I look it’s all about  _ Howard’s Successor  _ and living up to his name, and I just….” Tony sighed and let his head tilt back, moving his eyes up to the black sky. It was times like these when he wished light pollution wasn’t so prominent. He would’ve loved to see the stars. _

_ “I can’t do this anymore.” _

_ “Then don’t.” _

_ Tony moved his gaze back down to stare at James, who had a wild, excited look in his eyes. “What do you mean? I can’t just drop the mantle-” _

_ “Let’s leave. Run away. We can go live with my family in Philly, and-” A sudden thought dawned on James, and his face lit up like a kid’s on Christmas. “Let’s get married.” _

_ Tony’s eyes widened in surprise - not fear, or regret, or worry, just surprise. “What?” _

_ “Yeah!” James pushed himself to his knees and moved forward so he could take Tony’s hands in his own, looking up at him with wide, warm eyes. “Let’s… let’s do it. We’ve been dating since high school, so it’s not like we’re rushing into it. You could leave Stark Industries behind. You could become your own  _ person _ , rather than just a title.” _

_ Tony cocked his head, looking sympathetic. “What about your position in the Air Force? You wouldn’t just leave that.” _

_ James’ smile only grew. “Don’t have to. I’ll commute every morning. It’s just an hour drive. I’ll be fine. Let’s just get you off the grid, so you can  _ live  _ again. What d’you say?” _

_ Tony hesitated for a moment, his mind running through all the scenarios in which things could go wrong. What if Obie somehow found out and stopped him before he could leave? What if he was recognized in Philadelphia and it ruined his life there, too? _

_ But all of his worries were overshadowed by one thought - the thought of spending the rest of his life with James. _

_ “Okay,” Tony finally answered, and James’ smile grew to the point where his entire face was practically glowing. Tony felt himself doing the same. “Let’s do it. Let’s run away together.” _

Tony found tears beginning to form in his eyes by the ambush of his own memory. He had given that up, a lifetime with his one true love… for what?

_ For revenge. _

Was it worth it?

Tony didn’t,  _ couldn’t _ , answer. He was scared of what his mind would say. “How did you know I was alive?” he asked instead, keeping his attention focused on the library.

“Saw your face on t.v. with Spider-Man. You were wearing glasses, but….” James sighed wistfully. “I know your face. Spider-Man - you know him?”

Tony shrugged. “It’s complicated.”

There was a pause, a lull in the conversation, and Tony could feel James tense from beside him. Something big was coming.

“Did you find someone else?” James whispered, and Tony looked at him in surprise.

“Of course not,” he answered quietly, moving his hand so his fingers could brush against James’ - but James pulled his hand away. “Why would you think that?”

“Part of me thought you had died,” James muttered, attention still focused on the building in front of him. “The other part….” James shrugged, looking lost. “That was  _ our  _ plan, Tony. To run away, hide from the press. I was left to plan a funeral, and while half of me was mourning, the other half couldn’t stop thinking about you planning a wedding with someone else.”

“James.” Tony reached for James’ hand, but again, he pulled it away. Tony stepped in front of him and placed his hands on either side of James’ face, forcing eye contact. “I love  _ you _ ,” he said quietly, but sternly. “It’s only you. It’s only  _ ever  _ been you.”

“Then why did you leave?” James answered, voice sounding torn and shattered in a way that Tony wasn’t sure he could fix.

Tony shook his head and relaxed his grip. “I can’t tell you that-”

“Bullshit.” James stepped back and Tony let his arms fall to his side, physically flinching from the venom he heard in James’ voice. “You- you  _ did _ . You found someone else. You know what, Tony, I’m happy for you. I really am-”

James turned to walk away, but Tony grabbed his hand and turned him back sharply until the two ended up face to face, so close that Tony could see James’ eyes through the glasses. They were somehow sad and angry and confused all at once.

“Come back here tonight,” Tony whispered, settling upon a sudden decision. He couldn’t lose James, not again. “Be here at one, and I’ll… I’ll explain everything.”

James looked doubtful and he squirmed under Tony’s grip, but Tony wouldn’t let him go. “Tones, I should really-”

“Be here,” Tony repeated, and he waited for James to nod before releasing his arm. James looked at him once more, mouth opening, then closing, before turning and walking down the street. Tony watched him go, heart aching.


	7. Twelve Hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony’s explanation isn’t what James expects, and their relationship crumbles. James gives Tony an ultimatum, which also involves Peter.

Tony hovered over the New York Public Library at one in the morning, just as promised, looking down at the sole figure below. This time, it was James waiting while Tony hovered above. Ironic. Tony saw James look down at his wrist, then look around the empty streets and frown. Well, it was now or never. Time to make his grand entrance.

Tony brought his suit down to land quietly behind James and cleared his throat, the sound amplified through the metal of the armor. Tony smiled excitedly. What would James think? Would he be impressed? Would he-

James turned suddenly, and his eyes went wide. He stepped back, mouth hanging open, and stumbled over his own feet.

“You- You’re-”

Tony’s eyes widened beneath the mask and he stepped forward, hands raised and ready to console - but James just raised his forearms in front of his face, preparing for a blow. Tony froze and stepped back.

“Rhodes, it’s- it’s me,” Tony tried to reason, and James’ confused eyes popped out from behind his forearms.

“No, you- you stay right there.” He held a hand straight out in front of him (which Tony looked at with amusement. James thought a mortal arm could stop him?) and reached the opposite hand into his back pocket. “I- I’m calling-”

“Hey.” Tony disengaged the front of his suit and stepped out of it, towards James, who cocked his head in confusion - but kept his hands where they were, holding Tony back. Tony raised his arms up with his palms forward, staring up at James with a slightly bowed head. “It’s just me.”

James didn’t relax. He brought his hand away from the phone to raise it in a semi-fist in front of him. Tony’s eyes caught that, and James’ narrowed eyes - but he tried not to think about it too much. If an extraordinary, one-of-a-kind suit landed in front of  _ him  _ \- well, he would try to figure out how it worked, but then again, he wasn’t normal. He far exceeded it.

“You….” James kept his voice level, unrevealing, and so much colder than it had been that afternoon - and Tony, for the life of him, couldn’t understand why. “ _ You  _ are the Iron Assassin?”

Tony stiffened.  _ Oh.  _ He looked at the suit behind him, as if to confirm - then, he returned his eyes to James, who looked… cold, and stiff. Not like the James he had grown to love.

“It’s- it’s not what you think-”

“Oh, it isn’t?” James let his arms fall from their stance as he stepped closer to Tony and crossed his arms over his chest. “So I  _ didn’t  _ see video footage of you attacking the Avengers? Threatening Captain America in front of civilians? Dragging Spider-Man, who, I’ve just discovered, is a fifteen-year-old boy to the top of the Avengers tower and shooting him in the arm, leaving him to crawl down one-handed?”

Realization crossed James’ face. His arms went slack and fell to his sides, and he stared at Tony with a look something close to betrayal. “That picture… of you in the car with Spider-Man. Is he…?”

It took Tony a minute to realize what James was asking. “No! He’s… he’s not mine. You think I decided to randomly adopt a Spiderkid, after being gone for ten years? And then shoot him in the arm - which, for the record, wasn’t lethal?”

Tony’s joke fell flat as James fixed him with a disappointed stare. “I don’t know anything about you anymore.”

“James-” Tony thought referring to him by his first name would get a better response, but he was sincerely disappointed. Tony reached a hand for James’ shoulder, but he flinched away.

“Why are you attacking Captain America?”

“It’s not that simple-”

“Try me.”

Tony stared at James in disbelief. Did he… did he really want to know? Why couldn’t they just go back to earlier, relaxing in a coffee shop, being hopeful about what might be? But the look on James’ face, the way he was staring at Tony like - like he was a  _ stranger _ ….

Tony sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, you remember Howard?”

“Is that supposed to be a joke?”

Tony groaned, turning his back to James and walking in the other direction.

“Hey.” James followed after him. “Don’t you walk away-”

Tony turned sharply, and James stepped back for how quickly Tony was approaching. “I don’t want you to think less of me,” he cried, and James’ face fell. “I don’t want you to hate me.”

James shook his head, and Tony knew what he was about to say next.  _ That’s irrational. I’d never hate you- _

“Explain.”

… Oh.

Fine, Tony thought, clenching his teeth. James wanted an explanation, he’d get one.

Tony straightened his back and set his jaw. “Captain America was the son my father never had.”

“So, what, you’re jealous?”

Tony snarled. “Bitter.”

James sighed and rubbed at his temples. “You’re gonna have to explain  _ better _ , Tony-”

“I  _ am  _ explaining-”

“No, you’re being  _ petty _ . Focus. Gather your thoughts. Try again.”

Tony groaned and grit his teeth, glaring at James. “Cap should’ve saved me. He didn’t. I’m  _ mad _ .”

“When should he have saved you?”

“In that damn Afghanistan cave.”

“Oh geez, Tony-” James turned his back to Tony and rubbed at his face, pacing a few steps in the opposite direction. “Every time,  _ every time  _ I think it can’t get any worse-”

“He gave up on me, Rhodes!”

“He was  _ in ice _ , Tony!” James shouted, voice venomous as he turned back to face Tony. “He was comatose! He couldn’t help you, and you want to  _ kill  _ him for that? You lived through an unfortunate situation-”

“ _ Unfortunate? _ ”

“That’s not Captain America’s fault!”

Tony stormed forward and until he was standing toe-to-toe with James. “I was tortured,” he spat, voice harrowed. James just shook his head, jaw set.

“I’m sorry, Tony, I truly am, but you’re talking about homicide-”

“Justice.”

“Murder. And I won’t stand for it.”

Tony glared at James, breathing heavily. His teeth were grit so tightly he thought they might break, and the crescents he was digging into his palms were beginning to bleed. “What are you going to do, arrest me?”

James looked down at Tony and sighed, eyes calculating before he bit the inside of his cheek… and nodded. “Yeah. I will.”

Tony stepped back, making a gesture to the Iron Assassin suit behind him. It stepped forward and held up a gauntlet, fingers spread, as Tony’s eyes bore into James’. “I’ll stop you.”

James’ eyes didn’t once leave Tony’s.

“Will you?”

The air was still as the men stared at each other. Neither one knew what to do. Tony couldn’t bring himself to harm James, of course - but the only reason Tony survived this long was because no one knew he was alive. If James  _ really  _ called someone, they might stop Tony before he could complete his one goal. Imagine that - working for ten years, just to be stopped four days in.

“Please, you- you can’t call anyone,” Tony tried to plead, but James’ expression remained hard and unchanged.

“Are you still going to try to kill the Captain?” Tony hesitated a moment before nodding his head, and James clenched his jaw. “And what comes after that? The rest of the Avengers? You gonna terrorize the whole city? What, world domination?”

“It’s not like that, Rhodes, I swear-”

“What about Spider-Man?” James cut him off. “Peter Parker. How’s he involved in all this? Does he know your plans? Does he help you execute them?”

“No! No- well, he _does_ know who I am, what I’m after, and, if I’m being honest, he agrees with my stance, so _that_ means something-”

James sighed angrily, eyebrows drawn. “I can’t believe you brought a fifteen-year-old kid into this,” he hissed. “I have to take action now, Tony.”

All the colour drained from Tony’s face in a moment of panic - then it rushed back all at once in a heat of anger. “You do not go  _ near  _ Peter Parker. He has nothing to do with this-”

“ _ You  _ brought him into this!” James shouted. “At best, he’s an accomplice. At worst, he’s deserving of the charges you yourself are facing! Treason, terrorism, attempted assassination, to name a few!”

“It’s one simple act!” Tony screamed, his voice somewhere between anger and begging. “It’s  _ justice!” _

“I’ve seen how these things go, Tony,” James yelled, and Tony flinched. “I’m in the army. You know that, right? I’ve known people like you, with your intentions, who think, ‘I’ll just do this one thing for the greater good,’ and it spirals out of control. I know how this ends. I’ve fought villains like you before.”

Tony froze.  _ Villains like you _ . Sure, to the general public, he could be seen as a villain, but that’s just because they don’t understand - but James loved him.  _ James  _ should’ve understood.

“I’m not a villain-” Tony took a cautious step forward, but James held his ground, looking down at Tony with a sorrowful expression.

“If I didn’t know you,” he whispered, voice raspy, “I’d want to kill you.”

Tony recoiled, blood rushing loud in his ears. His world came to a standstill, then moved all at once. He felt as though he was falling through a vortex, but the eye of the storm, the one constant, was James’ disappointed face, and his expression that seemed to say,  _ this is it. We’re done _ .

James continued to speak, but his voice was far away, coming from somewhere above the hole Tony had fallen deep into.

“ _ I’ll give you 12 hours… get away… no promises….” _

The words kept coming, but none of them made sense in Tony’s ears. All he heard was  _ world domination… villains like you… I’d want to kill you. _

Tony’s head was spinning. His vision was blurring. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth.

_ This is it. We’re done. _

Tony’s centre of gravity shifted. His body tilted precariously. The last thing he saw before he passed out was James’ silhouette, his back to Tony, walking away.

⬩ ⬥ ⬩

Tony cracked his eyes open with a deep sigh, blinking at the ceiling of his bedroom - wow. The ceiling was a lot darker than he remembered, and - well, maybe he should go back to sleep for a few more hours. He was  _ definitely _ seeing stars.

No… no, that was a headlight. So, he had left his blinds open?

Tony tried to blink the clouds from his vision as he put his hand on the mattress beneath him and pushed himself to a sitting position- pavement. His hand was on pavement.

Tony pushed himself to his feet suddenly and- okay. Headspin. He pressed the heels of his hands against his face and tried to blink away the stars as he fought to keep his balance, breathing deeply against the strain.  _ Phew _ . Alright, so, remove the hands, and….

Outside. Tony was outside.  _ Why was Tony outside? _

He looked at the floor where he was just lying, and then squinted at the library across the street, and finally, his eyes landed on the Iron Assassin suit-

Iron Assassin.

_ Rhodes _ .

Tony looked around with wide eyes, stumbling in the direction he  _ thought  _ James had went - but, truth be told, he didn’t know which direction that  _ was _ . Things were coming back to him in pieces, and for the life of him, he couldn’t put them together- and then it overcame him like a tsunami.

James- James was going to call someone. Did he call them  _ already?  _ No - no, he said twelve hours.  _ Twelve hours _ . And he said that - Tony checked his watch - forty-five minutes ago. Damn, Tony was out for a  _ while _ . Then again, getting no sleep the past night must not have helped. Tony had been so excited to see James again, he couldn’t even lie down - he was too busy checking and rechecking his suit, getting ready to fluff out his feathers and make James proud of him.

It turned out, that excitement was futile.

Okay.  _ Okay _ . Eleven hours, fifteen minutes until he was a wanted man. Or, was there the chance that James would get cold feet? Would remember his almost-fiancé and decide  _ not  _ to betray him?

Maybe. But Tony couldn’t take his chances.

There were things that needed to get done in the next eleven hours. His workshop wasn’t immediately vital to clean up. His defenses should keep people away - sure, not for long, but for long  _ enough _ . Hiding all the evidence at Howard’s house was one of his top priorities (because of course, people would look there first), but not the utmost. No, the utmost priority was Peter Parker, and getting him out of the line of fire, away from danger.

Tony stumbled back into his suit, head still spinning lightly from his fall to the pavement, but he fought through it. Tony didn’t have time for  _ injuries _ , not when there was a fifteen-year-old kid to save that  _ he  _ had put in danger.

How could things tilt so, increasingly sideways in just four days?

Tony blasted through the night sky and soared toward the apartment he remembered to be the Parkers’. Some local drunks gasped and called up to him from below. He heard others yell the words  _ alien  _ and  _ UFO _ , and surprisingly, a few whistled cat-calls - but he didn’t pay them any attention. The sole thought in his mind was  _ Peter Parker eleven hours Peter Parker eleven hours Peter Parker PeterPeterPeterSAVEPETER _

In no time the Parkers’ apartment came into view and Tony located their window, with a little help from JARVIS. He didn’t hesitate to land the suit on the fire escape with a rather loud  _ CLANG _ , but all the nearby windows were dark, and any noise could be mistaken for the hustle and bustle of New York City life, so he decided it was fine.

Tony disengaged the suit and took a careful step onto the landing, essentially squished between the wires and hard-edged metal of his creation and (what JARVIS confirmed for him was) Peter’s bedroom window.

With glee that didn’t last long, Tony realized Peter’s window was already unlatched and he slid the glass up, the sudden smell of burnt food overwhelming him and almost causing him to turn back - but he pressed on. He awkwardly stuffed himself through the window and landed on the hardwood floor with a  _ thud _ , wincing and holding his breath - but it turned out, that wasn’t necessary.

Because Peter was already awake.

He was sitting at his computer desk with his back to Tony and a set of headphones over his ears, and was gently bobbing his head to whatever he was listening to. There was a programming site opened on his computer and Peter was typing out new lines of code furiously, stopping every now and then to jot something down in a notebook that lay to his right.

Tony watched him quietly for a few minutes - watched how quickly his fingers were flying across the keyboard, how easily he strung together the lines of code - but a look down at his watch reminded him that he didn’t have time. It was two-o-five, meaning there was merely 10 hours and 55 minutes until Tony was a wanted man, and Peter would be, too. He had to get them out of here.

Tony took a slow step forward and placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder - regretting it the moment he did.

Peter jumped to his feet, headphones going flying, and kicked behind him, sending Tony backward onto Peter’s bed. Tony saw Peter reach for…  _ something  _ on his desk and slip them over his wrists like bracelets, then turn and angle them in Tony’s direction, and suddenly Tony was covered in… yarn?

Peter hesitated, arms still out in front of him, and Tony took the opportunity to hiss, “Kid, it’s  _ me _ .”

Peter squinted through the darkness - then, his arms dropped and his eyes widened. He opened his mouth to speak when the knob on his bedroom door twisted. Peter’s head shot towards the opening door and stepped in front of Tony, just in time for a woman to stick her head inside the opened doorway.

Tony would’ve moved, but the various sticky substances were keeping him stuck to the bed. All he could do was peek around Peter’s body and watch the woman, who he guessed to be Peter’s aunt, squint through the darkness.

“Peter?” she said quietly, running her hand along her face. “What are you doing awake? It’s two in the morning.”

“Sorry, May,” Peter chuckled, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I was, uh, doing homework.”

May nodded and was about to turn away when her brow furrowed and she leaned forward slightly, looking past Peter - looking at  _ Tony _ . “Is that Ned?”

Tony was about to speak up when Peter waved a hand behind his back so only Tony could see - fingers spread in a  _ stop  _ gesture. “Uh, yeah, Ned. We’re having a sleepover.”

Goodness, the kid was an  _ awful _ liar. Tony held his breath until he saw May nod sleepily and yawn as she began to turn away. “Maybe you should actually get some sleep. The longer you stay awake, the worse that sickness is gonna get.” Peter fake-coughed for emphasis, and Tony had to bite back a laugh.

Tony saw Peter’s shoulders relax from behind and he nodded as May left the room.

“Goodnight, May,” he called after her, and stood frozen as he waited for her footsteps to fade, and the door to her bedroom shut. Then, he hurried to his own bedroom door and closed it, and whirled around to face Tony.

“That’s your Aunt?” Tony chuckled, looking up at Peter from the awkward position he was stuck in, lying on the bed. “She’s cute.”

Peter groaned as he stepped toward his desk and started rummaging through the drawers, looking for something. When he turned back around, Tony was he was holding a pocket knife, which he began to cut through the string with. Tony watched him go with amusement, wondering how often he had to do this.

“We’re lucky she wasn’t wearing her glasses, or she would’ve  _ definitely  _ noticed you’re not Ned.”

Tony smiled as his left hand came free from the string and he brought it up to scratch his nose. Funny how your nose became itchy when there was no way for you to scratch it. “And,” he drew out the word as he sat up, waiting for Peter to cut through the string holding down his thigh, “we’re lucky she was so tired, or she would’ve definitely noticed your lie.”

Peter glared at Tony as he straightened up, the final string cut away. “Hardy-har-har.”

“Nice knife.”

Peter turned back to his desk and tucked it back into his original drawer. He straightened up, and Tony saw him hesitate before slowly reaching to remove whatever he had put on his wrists. “My uncle gave it to me.” The bracelet-looking objects fell to the desk with a faint  _ clang _ , and Peter hovered his hands over them for a moment before sighing and turning back to Tony.

“What are those things?” Tony nodded to the bracelets.

“Web-shooters. Made ‘em myself.”

Tony looked up at Peter incredulously. He suddenly remembered the scene he had walked in on, Peter coding with what he now knew to be the web-shooters sitting off to the side of the keyboard. “Really? All on your own?” Peter shrugged, looking down. “Wait. Web-shooters - webs? Spider-Man. Were those authentic spider webs?”

Peter laughed, and Tony noticed how his eyes sparkled. It was nice to see the kid happy. “You know how many spiders I’d have to harass to get that many  _ authentic webs? _ No, I, uh, manufactured them, too.”

Tony nodded appreciatively. “Impressive.”

Peter blushed and looked down. “Thanks.” 

“Hey, why does the house smell like burning food?” Tony asked with a twinge of amusement.

“I don’t smell anything.”

“That’s because you’ve been  _ living  _ in it for so long.”

Peter chuckled and looked down. “May tried to cook dinner.”

“ _ Dinner? _ The smell should’ve definitely left by now.”

“What can I say? She’s an awful cook.” He leaned back against his desk and looked out the window. “But she tries her best.” Tony sat on the bed watching him, leaving him alone with his thoughts - which seemed to have come to a halt, judging by the way Peter’s eyes suddenly went wide and snapped to Tony. “What are you doing in my bedroom?” he hissed, and Tony tried to shove back the mental image he just got of an angry puppy.

Tony leaned forward and stared seriously at Peter. “I went to see a friend after you left-”

“What kind of friend?”

“I’m about to tell you, if you just listen.” Peter blushed and looked down, ashamed. Tony bit back a smile. “Anyway, we used to be… close, so I thought I could trust him. You know, with my little mission, and stuff.” Tony found himself subconsciously touching the tattoo on his left hand. He considered pulling his hand away, but decided he didn’t really want to. “I told him everything-”

“You told him about me?”

Tony looked up and smiled sympathetically. “Yeah, kid. Everything. Told him you were on my side and all.”

“And what did he do?”

Tony sighed and stood from the bed, moving to stand in front of the window and look outside. His fingers were twitching to grab and pull at his hair in frustration, but he resisted the urge to as he watched the occasional car pass by outside.

“He’s gonna rat us out.”

The kid was silent from behind him. Tony turned and saw Peter watching him with wide eyes. “Now? Tony, are they coming for us  _ now? _ ”

Tony stepped forward quickly and put his hands on Peter’s shoulders, checking his watch as he did so. “He gave me twelve hours, and that was… one hour and fifteen minutes ago.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “What have you been  _ doing  _ all this time? We need to leave, now!” he whisper-shouted, and reached for his web-shooters. Tony lunged forward and grabbed his wrists before he could touch them.

“Hey.” Peter looked up at Tony, and for the first time, Tony noticed the pure fear and worry in Peter’s eyes. He was just a  _ kid  _ \- a fifteen-year-old kid, and here he was, trusting a stranger enough to run away with him. One-hundred-percent trust. Tony had lost track of how often Peter had used the word  _ we  _ in that conversation.

“It’s okay,” Tony said, and he exaggerated a breath to try to get Peter to do the same. He did. “We’ll figure it out. For now…. Wait, you’re ready to leave? You’re willing to just… go?”

Peter opened his mouth and closed it again, looking down. “For how long?”

“Well, forever, kid. I mean, they’ll always be looking for us.”

Peter looked to the door of his bedroom and sighed, twisting his fingers in front of him. “Are there any other options?”

“Well, you could stay here… but they’d find you pretty easily.” Tony didn’t want to be blunt, but they only had ten hours and forty minutes left.

“And if I went with you, you’d protect me?”

_ With my life.  _ “Always.”

Peter sighed and closed his eyes. Tony watched him breathe in and out, over and over, just thinking. He wanted to tell the kid to just  _ snap out of it, leaving a parental figure can’t be  _ that  _ hard  _ \- and then he realized that not everyone had a deadbeat dad like he did.

Wait. Wait, no, Tony was  _ not  _ getting jealous of a fifteen-year-old kid who was soon to be nationally declared as a criminal. That wasn’t fair.

“Okay,” Peter whispered finally, looking up at Tony with so much whole-hearted trust that Tony really reconsidered that  _ no other option _ stance. Did he really want Peter living the rest of his life as a wanted man?

“I… I’ll go with you.  _ But _ , I need the assurance that May will be safe.”

“Kid, you know I can’t promise-”

“Please.” And Peter was looking at him with such raw sincerity, how could Tony deny him?

“Yeah,” Tony murmured - and although he really had no control over that situation, he wished he had, and so he would make it true. He would protect May Parker, whatever it took, if for nothing other than Peter. “Of course she’ll be safe. I’ll make sure of it.”

It was only then that Peter relaxed, seeming to sink into himself and acknowledge the truth. He was never coming back here.

“Okay,” he whispered again, looking at the ground. “I just… I need to say goodbye.”

“Of course. Tomorrow’s Friday. She works on weekdays?”

Peter nodded. “She… she always works.”  _ Phew.  _ Tony made a mental note to drop off some spare pocket change whenever he checked on May - because, yes, that was definitely a thing now. Wow, he couldn’t believe Peter Parker had made him  _ soft _ .

“So you say goodbye to her, like you’re going to school. Pack your stuff, and I’ll come pick you up.”

“What will she think?” Peter whispered, and it was only then Tony noticed there were tears in his eyes.

Tony sighed, and reached up a tentative hand to place it on Peter’s shoulder. “She’ll see the news. She’ll know people are after you, and she’ll… assume something close to the truth. She’ll know you’re gone, probably ran away, and she’ll understand why you left.”

Peter sniffled and looked down, taking a step back, away from Tony’s grip. When he looked up, he was no longer crying.  _ Acting strong _ , Tony realized.  _ I had better get out of here before he breaks. _

“Pack your stuff,” Tony whispered, and he stepped back, closer to the window from which he entered from. “I’ll be back for you in a few hours.” Peter nodded, but it was shaky, and Tony turned away before Peter couldn’t hide it anymore - couldn’t hide just how  _ terrified  _ he was.

_ A fifteen-year-old boy _ , Tony thought as he stepped back into the suit and began to levitate off the balcony.  _ I just ruined the life of a fifteen-year-old boy.  _ Tony flew away, the last thing he saw being Peter Parker’s hunched-over form as he sobbed on the floor of his bedroom.

Ten hours, thirty minutes to go.


	8. Self-Destruct

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony prepares to leave, and he learns about Peter's motives.

Tony was packed within the hour. His tools were piled into organized boxes, soon to be moved to the trunk of his black Audi R8, a car that had been previously hiding in Howard’s garage. As soon as all his software finished copying to his portable hard drive, he’d fly out to the mainland, self-destruct his island, pick up Peter and they’d be off. Easy.

_ Except _ , there were four hours left on the software download. It made sense - this was the culmination of ten years of hard work, after all - but now Tony had to wait four hours.

Whatever. He had to wait to pick Peter up anyway. Might as well take a nap - actually, yeah. It had gone unnoticed until now, but Tony was  _ exhausted _ . He had four hours to kill. He might as well.

Tony didn’t even relocate himself to a more comfortable seat. He passed out right in front of his computer, the blue loading bar in the centre of the screen not even a percent of the way filled.

⬩ ⬥ ⬩

Tony woke to the sound of his phone ringing. He readjusted himself on his chair, groaning at the aches and pains in his back and neck, and checked the time on his watch.  _ 5:15 _ . Two hours of sleep? Perfect. That should get him through the next 48 hours.

Tony reached for his phone, rubbing the sleep from his eyes - but he had to rub them again. And again.

There was no way James could be calling him, right?

Tony hit  _ Accept  _ on his phone and brought it to his ear, still blinking away sleep. “Hello?”

Despite the obvious signs (aka, James’ name popping up on the caller ID), Tony could honestly say he was surprised when James’ voice answered.

“Tony.”

“Rhodes.” Tony bolted upright, suddenly wide awake. He leaned forward in his chair to drum his fingers anxiously on his computer desk. The downloads were half way done.

“What are you doing right now?”

“Why, you want to come over?”

Tony’s joke fell flat when James sighed. “Are you going to turn yourself in?”

Tony almost fell from his chair. “Wha- Huh? And why would I do that?”

“Do it, Tony. It’ll be easier for everyone.”

Tony grit his teeth, hands falling still atop the desk. Tony wasn’t nervous anymore - he was set in his ways. He knew what he was doing. While his love for James was large, it wasn’t large enough to stop his plans.

“Aw, is someone upset about having to work night shifts in their search for me?”

There was a heavy, frustrated sigh from the other end of the line. “We’ll find you within 48 hours, Tony.”  _ Good _ , Tony thought humorously.  _ Just in time for my two hours of sleep to wear off. I can sleep in my cell _ . “I meant easier for you, and the kid. It’s not just your life you’re ruining here. It’s his, too.”

Tony shook his head, standing from his chair and beginning to pace in front of his computer desk. “Peter wouldn’t want to turn himself in.”

“Did you ask him?”

Tony rubbed his forehead as he squeezed his eyes shut, wishing James would just  _ shut up _ . This was his choice. And, wasn’t James his enemy now? Weren’t they on opposite sides?

“Why did you call, Rhodes?”

“Turn yourself in, Tony. This is your last warning.”

Tony checked his watch with a slight smirk. “I still have seven hours and forty-five minutes. Why would you give me so much time if you didn’t want me to escape?”

“I know how stubborn you are. I wanted to give you the chance to change your mind.  _ Turn yourself in. _ ”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Ton-”

Tony hit  _ end call  _ before James could get the word out.

Tony tossed the phone to his desk with a groan. What was James saying? Of course Tony wouldn’t turn himself in. Of course Peter didn’t want to, either. Tony hadn’t explicitly  _ asked _ Peter, but Peter hadn’t offered it - plus, he had seemed more than eager to join Tony in his escapade. James just didn’t know what he was saying.

Tony put his hands on his hips and tapped his foot on the workshop floor, exhaling deeply. Peter wouldn’t want to turn himself in, right? He would’ve volunteered that if he had wanted to. Well, he  _ had  _ asked Tony if there was any other option, and Tony hadn’t offered it….

No. No, that was different. James was just trying to get inside Tony’s head, and damn Tony if he let him. No, Peter was  _ fine _ .

… But maybe Tony should check up on him, just to be sure.

Tony groaned as he sat back in his computer chair and rolled it over to the blank wall on the opposite side of the room of his computers.

“JARVIS, show me Peter Parker’s residence.”

An image flickered to life on the wall, one Tony recognized from when he followed Peter home a few days ago. It was from a security camera, pointed up at the Parkers’ apartment, and, coincidentally, Peter was perched on the railing of one of the balconies.

His feet were hanging over the outside of the balcony and his hands were resting in his lap. The fact that they weren’t holding on to the railing might’ve worried Tony if he hadn’t known Peter was Spider-Man.

Peter’s attention was focused straight ahead, looking out towards the city - but Tony had a feeling Peter wasn’t focused on the buildings. He was focused on the  _ future _ .

As Tony watched, Peter rolled his neck, and even through the screen, Tony could see his shoulders rise and fall with the weight of a deep breath. Then, Peter lifted an arm, shot a web, and hopped off the edge of the balcony.

Tony’s heart jumped into his throat for a minute, and then he rolled his eyes at his stupidity. Peter’s Spider-Man. Right. Spider-Man jumps off buildings.

“Follow him, J.”

Tony watched as cameras changed and Peter flipped in and out of frame with ease, wearing only jeans and a t-shirt, swinging on short webs high above the city to keep his face hidden from the early morning commuters below.

Tony absentmindedly rolled his chair back and forth as his eyes followed the kid, admiring the way he effortlessly swung between buildings without hesitation. He had clearly been doing this for a while.

After a few minutes of swinging, Peter came to a stop on the outskirts of the city, in a quiet area with very little street lamps. Tony could only see his shadow through low-quality security cameras as Peter dropped to the ground and landed in a crouch, before beginning to walk down the quiet street. Every few seconds he would stop to pick something up, and Tony didn’t see what they were until the security camera changed, so he was watching Peter’s front instead of his back.

Peter was holding a small handful of flowers, and he was entering a cemetery.

Tony watched with narrowed eyes as Peter walked between headstones surrounded by overgrown weeds, the only person in the cemetery at 5:30 in the morning. He stopped at a headstone in the approximate centre and kneeled down in front of it.

“Can we get any closer?” Tony called out, not moving his eyes from the screen where Peter was beginning to pull out some weeds.

“No, Sir. There are no cameras inside the cemetery.”

“Can we zoom in? Get me audio.”

JARVIS complied, and soon Tony had a closer view of the boy who had now set a pile of weeds off to the side and was clutching his small pile of flowers in both hands.

Peter’s voice was barely a murmur over the speakers, and Tony signalled for the volume to be turned up.

“Hey, Uncle Ben.” His voice was respectfully quiet, unsullied by tears. Tony’s heart skipped a beat at the name.

“Sorry I haven’t been here in a while, but I, uh….” Peter leaned forward and dropped the flowers atop the headstone. “I brought you these. I know they’re not the best, but….” Peter leaned back on his heels. “They’re the best I could do.”

Peter just stared at the headstone for a minute, sighing. Tony held a fist under his chin thoughtfully as he watched. Part of him considered that this should be a private moment, but the other reminded him that, after the next seven and a half hours, all the two of them would have was each other. There could be no secrets between them.

“I’ve been talking with Tony Stark. I don’t know if you know him. He’s Howard Stark’s son.” Tony’s hand clenched into a fist at his father’s name. Was that his defining trait?  _ Howard Stark’s son? _ “Yeah, I know,” Peter continued with a soft chuckle, unaware of Tony’s inner turmoil. “He’s not dead, surprisingly. He survived, and now….” Peter took a deep breath. “Now, he’s going after Captain America.

“I know you always loved him. There’s a picture of my Halloween costume one year that’s….” Peter shook his head. “Nevermind. But Tony’s telling me about how Steve didn’t save him. That he doesn’t really fight for the people, only himself, and he only saves people when the media’s present, and it got me thinking… maybe it’s not  _ me  _ who’s responsible for your… death.”

Tony’s heart skipped a beat as he watched the kid. JARVIS had said Ben died in an armed robbery. Was Peter somehow responsible for that, or did he just have a guilt complex?

He forced his mind to quiet as Peter continued.

“If there are other heroes out there, if we have  _ Captain freaking America _ , why was it my job to save you? It was the Captain who let you die. It wasn’t me.”

Tony’s head was reeling. His message… he had gotten  _ through  _ to the kid. Peter  _ understood _ him - and now he could be sure James was wrong. Peter wouldn’t turn himself in. He wasn’t in it because of Tony - he was there because of  _ himself _ , and his own choices.

Take that,  _ babe _ .

“You’ll be happy to know I’m going with him,” Peter said, and Tony felt a proud smile cross his face. “I’m joining Tony, and I’m going to help him get his revenge on Captain America. After that….” Peter’s voice faltered. “After that, I don’t know what I’ll do. I’ll be a wanted man, because the law still believes he’s  _ good _ , but Tony will be, too. Maybe he’ll let me stay with him. If he doesn’t….” Peter shrugged and stood up. “Who knows? We’ll just have to wait and see.”

Peter laid a few fingers gingerly on the headstone. “I will avenge you,” he murmured, and his voice was low, serious. Tony watched the footage analytically. Then, Peter turned, walked out of the cemetery, and swung home without another word.

JARVIS’ voice reminded Tony that he was in his workshop, and not a random cemetery in Queens.

“Shall I follow him home, Sir?”

Tony shook his head, still staring at the projection - that soon flickered away to reveal a blank wall. “No, just….” Tony pursed his lips, considering the information he had just received. Parker was just like him -  _ and _ , the tiny voice in his head supplied,  _ you’re not forcing him into anything. He’s making his own choice _ .

Tony stood from his chair, brushed his hands on his legs, and looked around, stopping suddenly when he realized… he had nothing to do.

Another nap?

Tony shrugged to himself, sat back down on the chair, and lay his head back against the backrest.

Another nap sounded great.

⬩ ⬥ ⬩

A  _ beep  _ from his computer woke Tony at 7:15. He blinked up at the ceiling in confusion, attempting to gather his thoughts.

He felt… weird. Like,  _ good  _ weird. His body felt surprisingly light, and his brain was free of clouds.

Was… was he well-rested?

Tony checked his watch. He had gotten two hours of sleep. On top of the two hours before… _ four  _ hours? Who was he, Sleeping Beauty?

Tony rolled his shoulders back, cracked his neck, and stepped in front of his computer. A large, green pop-up was staring up at him:  _ Downloads Complete _ .

Tony smiled as he unplugged the hard drive and loaded it into one of the boxes that was ready to be packed. Now all he had to do was get a second Iron Assassin suit, one of the older marks, to carry the boxes to the mainland as he flew alongside it, self-destruct his workshop, collect Peter Parker, and they’d be off.  _ In the wind _ .

Tony looked around his lab - for the last time - and found that he was surprisingly… unaffected. Ten years in this place and he just  _ didn’t care _ . He had all his tools. He’d keep his blueprints and two favourite suits. JARVIS would be with him. That was all he needed.

Tony called the Mark 42 forward, and it stepped out of the line of waiting suits to stand at attention. Tony couldn’t help but smile at his creation.

He held up a hand and pointed to the stack of three storage boxes and a small suitcase in the corner of the room. “Lift those. Follow me.” The suit nodded once and turned to carry out orders, picking up the boxes with ease (while keeping them perfectly stacked and leveled) and turned back to Tony for approval. Tony nodded with a small smile and was about to summon the Mark 50 when a thought crossed his mind that made him gasp.

“Dum-E.”

It was just a dumb project, really - a robot Tony had created in high school under the watchful eye (and alcohol bottles) of his father. Sure, he loved the poor bot, programmed it from nothing; and it  _ had  _ helped him during particularly dark nights, fights with his father, December 16, 1991. But it had gone in the storage closet as soon as Tony returned from Afghanistan. He had an important mission to complete. His movements, his steps to accomplish it, needed to be  _ perfect _ , and as much as Tony loved him, Dum-E just wasn’t…  _ perfect _ .

But Tony couldn’t bring himself to leave the poor bot behind.

He walked over to the storage closet in the corner of the room and pulled open the door, sending unused brooms falling onto buckets filled with soap that rolled away. In the centre of it all, covered in dust built up from years of unuse, was Dum-E, his claw drooping to the ground, looking ultimately… depressing.

Tony stepped forward and began to remove the brooms and buckets from in front of the bot, stepping back when the path was clear. Then, he reached forward and flicked on the master switch on the side of Dum-E’s arm.

The bot sprung to life immediately, although not smoothly. The claw clicked a few times as the arm slowly raised, stopping every few moments with an unnatural clicking sound that made Tony wince - but once the arm reached its full height, the bot began to beep repeatedly, and though Dum-E wasn’t capable of emotions, well, it sounded a lot like happiness.

Tony couldn’t help but smile as the bot careened out of the closet towards him and he stepped back in order to dodge the biting claw, but it caught his shirt, and Tony couldn’t move away. (Well, he could pry the fabric from Dum-E’s claws, but he didn’t really want to.)

“Yeah, hi.” Tony ran a hand along Dum-E’s arm and the beeping increased. “I missed you, too.”

Dum-E released Tony’s shirt and began to roll in circles around the workshop, knocking over tables and scattering papers as he went. Tony didn’t have the heart to stop him - he just followed behind the bot, straightening the damage he did.

“Hey, Dum-E.” The robot stopped moving and turned to face Tony, snapping to attention with his claw raised. “We’re moving. Get your stuff.”

Tony began to turn away, the words meant simply as a joke - but he froze when Dum-E scampered off to the closet.

He returned not a minute later holding something in his hand -  _ a piece of paper _ , Tony realized as he took it from Dum-E’s offering claw. He flipped it over, and- there was  _ colour  _ on the other side. Crayon, to be exact.

Tony held the page closer to his face, trying to identify what was drawn on it (and also wondering why there were crayons in his storage closet).

The figure on the left, that one was obviously Dum-E. It was just a few, haphazardly-drawn gray lines, but the three angled up toward the second figure were definitely representing Dum-E’s claws.

The second figure - that’s where things got blurry. It looked vaguely human, Tony thought, with what he thought was a round orange head at the top coated with black spikes that must represent hair - but the body was speckled with white and black. Was that a dalmation coat, or-

A tuxedo.

Tony turned the paper and pointed to the first figure. “This is you.” Dum-E beeped twice. Tony moved his hand to the second figure. “This is me.” Dum-E beeped some ten times and clicked his claws together repeatedly. Tony bit back a laugh and looked back to the paper.

Floating above the figures were what looked like uneven red circles - more like ovals, actually - and Tony figured they must be hearts.

He looked back to Dum-E, who was still beeping and repeatedly opening and closing his claw.

“How did you learn  to draw?”

Dum-E began to run circles around Tony, and Tony laughed, wondering why it had taken him so long to revive his beloved friend.

Tony sighed and looked behind him to the waiting Mark 42, then down at Dum-E’s clicking claw.

“Well then.” Tony raised his arms as if he were presenting to a crowd. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

Tony summoned the Mark 50 suit to him, his most recent armour - the one that flew to him in pieces and assembled in nanotech on his body, could stand alone and empty as a guard if needed, and could fold into a suitcase. (It was, by far, the suit Tony took most pride in.) He took his last, unedited glance around his workshop before the helmet reached him and his vision was filled with neon blue lines and diagrams, numbers and words - because now, and forever until he was off the terrorist watchlist, Tony would always be analyzing. He would always be looking behind him, waiting for something that always threatened attack - and looking in front of him, searching for his next hideout, his next safe place until he had to move again.

He had roped Peter into this. That sucked, but this was their life now.

They were criminals.

Tony bent down and held out his arms, which Dum-E scampered into. Tony lifted him with ease, the suit taking most of the weight - then, without a thought, without a worry, without another glance back, he blasted up and out of his workshop and away from the island, the Mark 42 (and his boxes) in tow.

A few of Dum-E’s parts chipped away and fell into the ocean below, but Tony wasn’t affected by it. He could just rebuild Dum-E - and maybe he wouldn’t even change anything from the original. But he would build Dum-E in a new light, treat him better.

… Okay, maybe he might add cup holders, but that was  _ it _ .

As Tony crossed the borders for what was known as the Bermuda Triangle, he smiled to himself. He was cutting all ties. He was in the wind. He would never admit it, but he hated being chained to that one workshop, that toolshed. It got boring and smelly after ten years.

“Hey, JARVIS.”

“Yes, Sir?”

“Initiate self-destruct protocol Access code 2643 _.  _ Tear it down.”

As Tony flew away, his entire life carried behind him in the arms of the Mark 42, he felt the vibrations of the earth shifting beneath him. Waves began to rise in the water. Some might think it was an earthquake, but not Tony. Tony recognized it as the end of one life, and the beginning of another.

Tony was no longer  _ Son of Howard, CEO of Stark industries, deceased _ . He was now  _ Iron Assassin, predator to Captain America. Alive. _

His new life was beginning. He couldn’t look back at the island, at the debris and fires that lay there, at the remnants of his past life. He was becoming someone different.  _ Evolving _ . And even though he was on the run, he couldn’t wait to begin.

⬩ ⬥ ⬩

At 7:30, Tony sat in his car, waiting in front of the Parker apartment. His boxes were piled into the trunk along with a single suitcase with his clothes and the Marks 42 and 50 in briefcase form, and Dum-E was meticulously placed among them. Needless to say, it was a tight fit - but also a pretty mean feat, considering Tony’s entire life fit in the trunk of a sports car.

At 7:34, May Parker came jogging out of the front doors of the apartment building, hurrying toward a gray, beaten-down 2007 Honda Civic. Peter Parker followed close behind, wearing a pair of blue pajama pants paired tastefully with a gray t-shirt. His hair was tousled, giving the impression of bedhead, but his eyes were wide awake, and his movements were precise.

He didn’t just wake up. Did he even get any sleep?

Tony tapped a finger to his glasses. “Give me audio, J.”

“You didn’t have to walk me out, Peter,” May was saying as she dug in her purse for a pair of keys. She pulled them out a moment later and opened her car door, tossing her purse inside, before turning to look at Peter.

Peter grabbed the door from her. “That’s alright, May. I wanted to see you off.”

“ _ See me off?  _ Peter, you’re making it sound like I’m not coming back.”

Peter smiled and looked down - but it was more like a grimace.

“Peter?” May raised a hand, rested it gently on his forehead, then his cheek. “Baby, are you alright?”

Tony gnawed on his lip, watching the scene go down through rose-tinted glasses.  _ I know this must be hard, kid - actually, I  _ don’t  _ know, but don’t blow this for us. _

Peter smiled and leaned into May’s hand. “Yeah, May, I’m fine. Maybe just the tail end of the sickness.”

May frowned. “Alright, baby. Take a day off from school today, alright? Do you want me to call administration?”

“Yeah, May.” Peter sighed, then stepped back from her hand. “That would be great.”

May reached a hand up and ruffled Peter’s hair. The kid closed his eyes momentarily. “Alright. Just, take it easy today, okay? I’ll be home at eight.”

“Yeah, May.”

May gave Peter one more smile before stepping into the car. Peter closed the door for her, walking forward until his hands were resting over the crack where the door met the car roof.

“I love you, May.”

“Love you, too, Petey.”

And with that she was gone, pulling away from the curb, leaving a thick cloud of exhaust behind her (which could  _ not  _ be good for the environment).

Peter stood staring after her, and for a minute all Tony could see was his back - until Peter sniffed and raised a finger to wipe away a tear.

When Peter turned back around his hands were stuffed in his pajama pockets. He saw Tony’s car almost instantly, gave him a small wave (which Tony returned), held up one finger to indicate Tony  _ wait _ , and disappeared back into the apartment.

Tony barely had time to resettle in his seat before Peter was back again, wearing jeans and a white t-shirt, carrying a small, black bag on his back. He pulled open the passenger door without hesitation and climbed in, barely sparing Tony a glance. He dropped the backpack at his feet, put on his seatbelt, and leaned back in his chair, staring straight ahead.

Tony wanted to greet him, wanted to talk about… well, about anything, really, just because it was nice finally having someone to talk to, who  _ understood  _ you - but Peter looked like he was on the verge of tears. He was holding himself together well, but if prompted, Tony guessed he would fall apart on the spot.

Peter sighed in the passenger’s seat, not taking his eyes off the road in front of them.“Drive.”

“Aye aye, captain.” Tony reached for the clutch, put it in drive, pressed the gas - and they were off.


	9. Worst-Case

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Peter discuss their escape plan and make preparations for worst-case scenarios.

The drive was… awkward, to say the least.

A forty-year-old man and a fifteen-year-old boy who had previously held two and a half conversations together were now road tripping to escape jail time, and they didn’t even know where they were going.

Fun.

Tony drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he maneuvered the car onto the highway and settled in his seat. He didn’t know where he was going. All he knew was that he had to get as far away from New York as possible. Maybe they could run to Canada. Well… that was a worse-case scenario.

Tony looked over at Peter with a sigh. The kid had his head turned to stare out the window, cheek fully pressed against the seat.  _ That rules out conversation _ , he thought as he reached into the glovebox and grabbed the first CD that touched his hand. He opened the case without looking at it and popped the disc into the player.

Sting started to play from the speakers. Tony turned it up a few notches (because you couldn’t listen to rock unless you were fully immersed in it) and began tapping his fingers on the steering wheel and bobbing his head to the beat. Tony didn’t realize he was humming until Peter turned his head to glare at him.

He’d been without human contact for ten years. He wasn’t used to people shushing him when he sang along. Could you blame him?

Tony shrugged nonchalantly as he looked back to Peter’s stony face. “What? You don’t like Sting?”

Peter shrugged and looked to the DVD player, like he could read it for information. “I’ve never really listened to rock.”

“Well, you’ll love this.”

Tony turned up the music until Peter was wincing and began to sing along to  _ Driven to Tears _ , lyrics coming to him without a thought from years and years of listening on repeat. He heard a faint chuckle beside him, almost lost under the waves of heavy guitar, and turned to see Peter, smiling, but looking uncomfortable. A little awkward.

Tony turned down the music. “No?”

“No,” Peter agreed with a shy smile, shaking his head. “You have a nice voice, though.”

Tony barked out a laugh as he hit  _ eject  _ on the DVD player and tossed the CD back into the glovebox. (He’d put it back in its case later.)

“Alright, Mozart, hit me with your music.”

Peter twirled his phone in his hand, anxiously fiddling with it. “You have an aux cord?”

“How old do you think I am?” Tony dug out the wire from beneath the Sting CD and tossed it to Peter without looking. When he heard a gasp and then a laugh, he knew it had reached its mark - and by that he meant, it had probably hit Peter’s face and was currently tangling itself around his cheeks.

The next thing Tony knew, gentler music was playing through the speakers, with the deeper vocals of a man. It sounded kind of like…  _ church  _ music.

“Isn’t this the  _ Take Me to Church  _ guy?”

Peter shrugged. “Yeah. Hozier.” He started to sing along, his voice higher than the singer’s, and he only sang about every third word - but it was cute. He had a good singing voice, if only he would use it more often.

Tony made a vow then to put up with any music Peter played if it meant he sung along.

…  _ and  _ permitted Tony to play his rock albums every now and then.

Tony cast a sideways glance at Peter, smirking as the kid became more comfortable, and started singing louder. He was almost forming coherent sentences when he noticed Tony watching him and he stopped suddenly, looking down and blushing.

“No, don’t stop,” Tony pleaded, chuckling as he looked back out to the road. “You’re really good.”

Peter rubbed at the back of his neck and looked out the side window. “Thanks,” he muttered, blush growing.

The car quieted again, with only the soft sounds of  _ To Noise Making (Sing)  _ playing in the background. Peter looked down at his twiddling hands, opened his mouth, closed it, turned his body so he was fully facing Tony.

“Where are we going?”

Tony shrugged, turning on his flashing to move to the middle lane of the highway. He wasn’t using a ramp anytime soon. “Anywhere but here.”

Peter, surprisingly, settled back in his seat, seeming satisfied with that answer as he returned to looking out the window.

“Maybe we can go to Paris,” he muttered absentmindedly. Tony did a double take.

“Paris?”

“Yeah.” Peter shrugged. “I’ve always wanted to go.”

“Huh.”

“What, have you been?”

Tony scoffed. “Only twenty times. I’ve probably been everywhere you can name, kid. My dad… he dragged me everywhere. Press conferences, weapons expos. Try me.”

“London?”

“Yup.”

“Tokyo?”

“Every year.”

“llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch?”

Tony’s mouth fell open. “You made that up.”

“No I didn’t.”

“That’s not a real place.”

“Yes it is! It’s in Wales!”

Tony sat back in his chair and stared straight ahead, eyebrows raised. “Huh.”

“So, can we go?”

Tony cocked his head and squinted quizzically. “Name one fact about…  _ this place _ .”

“I know it’s called llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch.”

“Other than that.”

“I know it’s in Wales.”

“And…?”

Peter sighed and looked down, dejected. “That’s it.” Tony just laughed, and he caught Peter smiling, too, before he spoke up again. “Which was your favourite?”

Tony sighed, thinking. “New York. Always was. It’s just… home, you know? Can’t get that anywhere else.”

Peter didn’t respond. Tony didn’t continue. Before now, the two of them hadn’t really understood…  _ everything  _ about their predicament, but now, it was all sinking in. They could never go back to New York, never go back to their  _ home _ .

It wasn’t their home anymore. It was a prison, always awaiting them if they ever returned.

Tony shook his head to clear his mind of the thoughts and sighed, long and loud, hoping the clearing of his mind spread to Peter, too.

“Are you hungry?”

“I could eat.”

⬩ ⬥ ⬩

Fifteen minutes later, Tony and Peter were sitting in a McDonalds booth, enough food to feed a large family between them. Tony had insisted Peter get anything he wanted - goodness knows he had the money for it - and Peter had really gone all out. He’d ordered six meals, a.k.a. six full-sized, loaded burgers, six packs of medium fries, and six large cups of Sprite.

Tony didn’t know how Peter was going to finish all that, as he had only ordered himself a single cheeseburger - but Peter didn’t disappoint. He was halfway through his second burger before Tony even picked up his own from the tray.

“You wanna slow down there, kid?” he asked, chuckling, as he took his first bite. Peter blushed, put down his burger, swallowed thickly, and looked back at Tony with a wide grin.

“Sorry, I… get hungry.”

“I can see that.”

“I have a, um, large metabolism, since the spider bite. Doing all those flips… man, I haven’t eaten this well in  _ ages _ .”

Tony laughed as Peter picked up his burger and resumed eating - but then realization dawned on him and he froze, replaying what Peter had just said in his mind.

“What do you mean,  _ ages? _ ”

Peter looked up at him, took another bite. “Hm?”

“You said you hadn’t eaten this well in ages.”

Peter’s eyes widened marginally and he looked back down to his burger, shrugging. Tony suddenly thought back to the Parkers’ apartment, how it was located on the outskirts of town, how small Peter’s room had been, May’s old car….

“Peter, when was the last time you ate a full, proper meal for your metabolism?” Peter shrugged, keeping his head down. “Parker.”

Peter sighed and swallowed the last bite of his - Tony mentally counted the wrappers on the table - third burger. He intertwined his fingers on the table and looked up at Tony.

“May doesn’t - didn’t - know about it, so she didn’t know how to accommodate it.”

“But if she did, does she have enough money to feed you?” Peter glared at Tony. “Sorry. That was rude. I’m just saying- okay, I don’t even know what I’m saying. I’m just… going to…” Tony pushed himself up from the table, looking awkward as he walked away from the booth without a glance in Peter’s direction, muttering, “put my money where my mouth is….”

He returned three minutes later with five more burgers. He set them down in front of Peter and resettled in his own seat, picking up his sole cheeseburger and continuing to eat it as if nothing had happened. Peter’s mouth fell open.

“Tony.”

“Yeah?”

“ _ Why? _ ”

Tony shrugged nonchalantly. “You need to eat.”

“I  _ am  _ eating.” Peter gestured to the pile of four hamburger wrappers on the table as he moved on to the fries.

“Yeah. If you need more, or for later, or whatever.”

Yes, the burgers were mainly for Peter - but they were also for this quote-unquote  _ later _ . Tony subtly checked his watch, trying not to let the kid see - and worry. They had four hours and 45 minutes until their faces were plastered everywhere as criminals, and who knows the next time they’d be able to just walk into a McDonalds before being shot at?

“How long do we have?”

Tony cursed under his breath. Peter had caught him checking his watch.

“Four hours, 45 minutes.”

Peter nodded, finishing his second container of fries and picking up his fifth burger. “And you think, as long as we get far enough away from New York, we’ll be fine. We won’t get caught.”

Tony nodded, finishing off his cheeseburger and picking up a napkin to clean off his fingers.

“We won’t be fine.” Tony froze and looked up at Peter, eyes narrowed and head tilted. “You didn’t…” Peter leaned forward, quieted his voice- “attack Captain New York, you attacked Captain America. He’s known  _ everywhere _ . The only way we’d be safe is to get out of the country, make our way to Canada - in the next four hours, 45 minutes, if possible.”

Tony smiled as he threw his dirty napkin in with the pile of five wrappers. Peter moved onto his third carton of fries and picked a few out. “That’s exactly what I- wait, what on  _ Earth  _ are you doing?”

Peter looked up at him with a confused expression, the top bun of his sixth and final hamburger in one hand, fries in his other one, about to be dropped  _ onto  _ the burger.

“What?”

“What do you mean,  _ what?  _ Why would you think putting…  _ fries  _ on your burger would be a good idea?”

Peter shrugged, finishing his task - dropping the fries on his burger and placing the bun back on top. Tony had to look away as he squished it flat..

“It’s just a potato.”

“A, putting potatoes on your burger is  _ not  _ any better - and B, it’s not  _ just a potato _ . It’s loaded with grease and salt and-”

“And  _ heaven _ .”

Tony fixed Peter with an angry stare, a serious stink-eye. “No.” Peter lifted the burger. “Parker, I swear-” Peter opened his mouth- “Don’t you dare-”

But Peter was already taking a  _ huge  _ bite out of the burger and closing his eyes… in  _ delight _ .

“Mmm.”

“Shut up.”

“It’s  _ good! _ ”

“It can’t  _ possibly _ be good.”

“Don’t knock it ‘till you’ve tried it,” Peter sang, holding out the burger for Tony to take - but there was no way he was touching that. Peter just shrugged and finished it on his own, then got started on the fries. Tony sat patiently, watching him (and occasionally stealing a couple of fries). Peter was eating like he hadn’t eaten for _days_.

Peter finished quickly enough, and the two cleaned off the table. Tony carried the bag of burgers to the car and dropped them at his feet. They’d probably be lunch, or even a snack for Peter in the near future.

Tony settled in the car, put on his seatbelt, put his hands at ten and two… and froze.

“Do you really think we should go to Canada?” he asked while staring straight ahead. He saw Peter shrug in his peripherals.

“There’s not really another option.”

Tony sighed and checked his watch. “Four and a half hours. You think we can make it to the border before the news breaks? It’ll be close, and we may get caught right then and there. Or we could stay in America, change our names, hide out. See if we last longer.”

“But if we  _ do  _ manage to make it to Canada, we’re essentially home free.”

“Essentially. We’ll still have to change our names, but the danger wouldn’t be as prominent as it is here. The searches wouldn’t be as intensive.”

Peter sighed and ran a hand down his forehead. “At this time yesterday, my biggest worry was my math test… which I should be writing right now.”

Tony chuckled - though, it was really just to humour Peter. What he was saying was serious. He could never return to his old life now.

“And there’s no one we can turn to for help?” There was a hint of begging in Peter’s voice. He was fifteen, about to become a criminal by accomplice, and he was  _ scared _ . He just wanted a way out. Heck, the faster time passed, the closer it became to one, Tony found himself wanting that more and more.

“I tried that,” Tony muttered, gnawing on his lip. “That’s how we got into this situation in the first place.”

“Yeah.” Peter sighed, slouched in his chair, turned his head to face out the window. “Canada it is.”

Tony pursed his lips as he looked around the McDonalds parking lot, at the sense of normalcy he would never experience again without constantly looking over his shoulder.

Tony put a hand on Peter's shoulder and bent his head to look him in the eye.

"We'll be alright, Pete," he comforted, and Peter gave a nervous smile in response. "I will make this okay."

"Yeah. I know you will."

Tony smiled and gave Peter's shoulder a final, comforting squeeze before turning back to the wheel and putting the car in drive. He eased his way out of the McDonalds parking lot and back onto the highway. Peter turned the radio back on and once more, the car was immersed in the sounds of Hozier

“You got a passport?” Tony asked as he leaned back in his seat.

“Yeah.” Peter reached into the front pocket of his bag and pulled out the small, black leather book. “Never been out of New York, though.”

“Well then, you’re in for a surprise.”

Peter turned in his chair to smile at Tony. “Really? Like what?”

“No Olive Garden.”

“ _ What? _ ”

Tony laughed. “Yeah, and say good-bye to Target.”

“Where do they buy stuff?”

“Walmart, I guess.”

“ _ Wa _ \- wait, we have Walmart.”

Tony smirked. “Yeah, not  _ everything’s  _ different. It’ll just take some getting used to.”

⬩ ⬥ ⬩

They drove until noon, when Tony's phone rang the second the clock struck 12. His knuckles instinctively tightened on the steering wheel. He knew who was calling him, and he knew he really didn't want to answer, but he did anyway, asking JARVIS to put the call on speaker.

"Rhodes."

"Tones."

Peter's eyes snapped up to Tony's in alarm, but Tony just shook his head and held a finger to his lips before waving Peter off.

"You've got one hour, Tony, and if you think I'm bluffing, I'm not. I will report this the second that clock hits one, and I'm mentioning the kid, too." Peter froze in his chair and stared at where Tony's phone was sitting on the centre console between them. He didn't even seem to be taking a breath. "Rethink this, Tony. Please. I'm not saying I won't turn him in, because when push comes to shove, he's an accomplice at best, terrorist at worse; but I'd hate to have to destroy a young kid's life.

"You know he goes to Midtown, Tony?" Peter's eyes widened in surprise, and Tony knew he was questioning how James knew that. "Real smart kid. Lost his parents and his uncle at a young age. Tony, you should be paying for his therapy bills. Teach him to meditate. Buy him some adult colouring books. Teaching him treason? Fleeing the country with him? Those aren't good coping mechanisms, Tony. Don't force those on him."

"He's not crazy, Rhodes," Tony shouted into the receiver - then, he caught what James was insinuating. "Neither am I, so choose another argument-"

"Think of yourself, if not him. You're taking a minor out of the country without their guardian's consent. That's kidnapping, on top of whatever else. Arguments can be made for Peter - teenage rebellion, he's mad at the world, whatever. And, he's a minor. The charges won’t be as severe. You, on the other hand, will receive heavy jail time, probably - scrap that,  _ definitely _ \- under high security."

"Yeah? That doesn't scare me. I've been in jail before."

James groaned on the other line, and Tony choose to focus on that rather than the terrified - and, honestly, slightly disappointed - look Peter was shooting his way. He didn't know why Peter's approval (or lack of, in this case) meant so much to him, but he'd rather focus on the Lieutenant Colonel threatening to throw him in jail.

"Last chance. Turn yourself in."

Tony laughed, but it was cold. Chilling. Full of malice.

"Did you at least tell the kid? Give him his options?"

Tony looked quickly to Peter, whose jaw was clenched. Shit. Was he mad? Would he want to turn himself in?

Peter leaned forward and opened his mouth, and Tony waited - waited for him to give James their location, waited for him to try and run the car off the road-

"I believe Tony gave you an answer," he called calmly into the receiver, keeping eye contact with Tony the entire time. Tony raised a hand to his mouth to stifle his laugh as he turned his head back to the road.

The line momentarily quieted. "Who is this?"

"This is the kid."

The phone sounded like it was being adjusted, and when James spoke again, his voice was louder, clearer. He was most likely holding the phone closer to his mouth in desperation.

"Peter? Peter Parker?" Peter didn't say anything. "Listen to me, Peter. Right now, nothing has been done. You have options. Turn yourself in, the sentence will be less. You can get away with some time in juvie, a bit of community service, and your name will be hidden from the media. But, Peter, the second you choose to do this- the second something happens-"

Peter pressed the End Call button and sat back in his seat, looking content and at peace. Tony actually laughed out loud, and it was a mix of giddiness and relief, and probably a bit of hysteria, too. Peter barely gave him a second before speaking again, his tone calm and a tad cold.

"You didn't tell me I could turn myself in."

Tony kept his eyes straight. "Would you have if I had told you?"

Peter thought for a moment before shaking his head. "No. But, Tony, we're running away together. We're fugitives. We're all each other has. If we're going to do this, and succeed, we have to trust each other. We have to be honest with each other."

Tony looked at Peter then, impressed. "Yeah. Alright, kid, you're right. I'm sorry."

Peter nodded, contented. "Now, onto my other question."

"Anything."

"Jail time?"

Tony laughed, throwing his head back and closing his eyes. He felt Peter tense beside him, so he righted himself and returned his eyes to the road. He could drive with his eyes closed forever (he'd had lots of practise - that was one of the things he hadn't been thrown in jail for) but he didn't want Peter to be uncomfortable.

"Normal rebellious teen stuff, probably the things you should be doing instead of  _ learning treason and fleeing the country. Not good coping mechanisms. _ " Peter laughed at Tony's horrible impression of James, his voice far to low as a result of Tony tucking his chin down against his chest. "Drinking, smoking, stealing-"

"What did you steal?"

"You don't want to know."

Peter looked offended. "Yes, I do!"

"Alright, more accurate statement, I don't want to tell you."

"Please!" Peter begged, dragging out the word. Tony just smiled and shook his head - but Peter seemed to insist. "Please please please please please please ple-"

"Fine!" Tony raised a hand in exasperation before slapping it back onto the steering wheel while Peter cheered in the background. Tony sighed, turned to look out the driver's side window, a blush creeping up his cheeks-

"It was a cat."

Peter froze. He sat stiff in his chair, but Tony couldn't even look at him. He pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek and shook his head slightly as he stared out the front window.

Then, Peter started laughing.

And he didn't stop.

If anything, the laughs seemed to grow in intensity the longer they went on, and soon Peter had tears streaming down his cheeks as he kicked his feet out in front of him like a toddler. Despite himself, Tony started to smile, too.

"A... a cat?" Peter panted between fits of giggles. "Why?"

Tony shrugged, his smile growing by the second. "Wanted a pet. Wasn't old enough to buy one."

"And? Did you get caught?"

"Oh, yeah," Tony chuckled, which only made Peter laugh harder. "Tried to sneak it out in my jacket - to be fair, it was only a kitten, very small - but just as I was walking past the clerk, the little shit meowed." Peter was doubled over now, his head between his knees. "I could've sworn he was asleep until that very moment. It was like he wanted me to get caught."

"Yeah," Peter giggled, finally righting himself in his chair with a sigh. "You wouldn't last a second in-" He froze suddenly, and his previously smiling face sobered.

Tony clicked his tongue. "We're not going to end up in jail."

"We might."

"We won't."

"Tony!" Tony clamped his lips shut and waited for Peter to speak, keeping his eyes on the road. "As much as you don't want to believe it, there's a chance we do end up in jail, so we need to... you know, prepare."

"Okay," Tony caved, nodding slowly. "Right. Beginning with...." Tony thought for a minute. "Oh, rule number one. You can't mention your, um, secret abilities. None at all. You can't use them, can’t even mention ‘em."

"Why?"

Tony looked at Peter. The kid was doing what could only be described as pouting, and it reminded Tony of how young the kid was. Being Spider-Man was something cool he got to do. He got to be brave and bold and something more, and that was something he wasn't willing to give away - at least, not without a fight.

"You'll be targeted," Tony explained with a frown, not even wanting to go into what  _ targeted _ meant. He could barely stand to think about it. "People will try to figure out how you tick. They'll forget all their other goals, ambitions. Investigating you would be their number one priority, and I don't even want to think about what that investigation entails."

Peter nodded, but he didn't look happy about it. "Fine," he grumbled. "What's rule number two?"

"Dunno. I didn't think much past rule number one."

"Mind if I try?" Tony raised his hand, palm up, giving Peter the go-ahead. The boy sighed, fiddled with his fingers, looked out of the window, then down at his lap. "If they find us, we might be... separated." Peter trailed off and exhaled slowly. Tony sat quietly and patiently, listening. "You can't...." Peter stopped himself again, and when he continued, his voice was quieter than before - quieter than Tony had ever heard him speak.

"You can't forget me. Please. I don't want you to."

Tony's demeanor instantly softened. He looked to the side and caught a single tear trailing down Peter's cheek at the boy stared at the ground.

"I could never," Tony responded in a whisper, and Peter looked up slowly. He smiled then, soft and almost sad, but still hopeful. Maybe he was hoping not to get caught. Maybe he was hoping to spend more time with Tony.

Tony prayed it was the latter, because he definitely wanted to spend more time with Peter.

This time it was Peter's turn to turn on the radio, but before he could resume singing along to the soft sounds of Hozier he was unplugging the auxiliary cord, and Sting was blasting through the speakers once more.


	10. Terrorist Watchlist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Peter race to cross the border before James reveals their identities.

At 12:45, Tony’s GPS (a.k.a. JARVIS) predicted they’d reach the Canadian border at one.

Peter’s nervous glances at the clock reminded him their identities would be revealed in 15 minutes.

Tony pushed the gas pedal closer to the floor. They  _ had  _ to reach the border before the announcement went out. If they didn’t, if they tried to pass and the clerk knew, knew their identities, knew they were the ones to attack the most beloved public figure in America, they’d be done for. Stopped before they’d even started.

The music had become dull. No one was singing anymore. Tony thought it was Sting, but he couldn’t bring himself to focus on it. The closer they grew to the border, the more tense the pair of them got.

Peter’s fiddling switched from high intensity to none at all, as if he was feeling too tense and hopeless to continue.

With every passing second, Tony gripped the steering wheel tighter. His knuckles were growing white, but he didn’t notice - or didn’t care.

This was their one chance. They couldn’t screw it up.

Peter cleared his throat, but he had to do it a few times, and when he finally spoke, his voice was dry and raspy.

“How do border crossings…  _ work? _ ”

Tony chuckled lightly despite himself. “You pull up beside this clerk in a booth. They ask you questions. If you pass, they raise the gate and you drive through. If you don’t, they pull the car off to the side and investigate.”

“What are the questions?”

Tony shrugged. “Any fresh fruit, any firearms, drugs, alcohol-”

“Anything they can catch us on?”

“We should probably establish a backstory. You-  _ crap _ .” Peter looked up in alarm. “You’re a minor. You can’t cross the border without permission from your guardian, and we have different last names, so you can’t be considered my son.”

“What does that mean?” Peter’s voice was panicked and his eyes wide.

“We can’t call your aunt, obviously. Do you think we could… forge a note?”

Peter gnawed on his lip. “Of May giving me permission?”

“No, they might try verify that. We need to make someone up.”

“Like who?”

“Like… the family I’m taking you to visit. I’m your uncle, and we’re going back to visit your parents.”  _ Congratulations kid, you’re no longer an orphan. _

“And we need to forge a note from these parents?”

Tony looked around before throwing his hand into the glovebox and extracting a notepad and a pen he had buried in there. He tossed it at Peter, who caught it with shaky hands.

“ _ Me? _ ”

“No, the person who’s driving is going to write it.”

“Ha, ha. I  _ mean _ , what if we get caught? I don’t want to take the blame!”

“We won’t get caught, and you wouldn’t. You’re a minor. As the adult, it would be my fault. Now,  _ write _ .”

Peter stared at the page as if it was going to bite him, holding the pen in a shaky hand. “What do I say?”

“Pfft, I don’t know. What, you think I’m a writer? Try…  _ To whom it may concern _ -”

“Whom?”

Tony raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Yes, if someone is receiving an action, it becomes  _ whom  _ rather than  _ who _ .”

“And you say you’re not a writer.”

“Shut up. Write.  _ To whom it may concern, I give permission for my son, Peter Parker, to travel with his uncle, Tony Stark, to visit me in… Toronto. _ ”

“Toronto?”

“It’s a big city closest to the border.  _ Signed... Naomi Parker. _ ”

“Naomi?”

“Do you want to write this note?”

“Technically, I  _ am  _ writing it.”

Tony groaned and shook his head as Peter laughed.

“Teenagers. Anyway, try to sign a name under it, in cursive. Make it look professional.”

Tony looked over when Peter finished writing and saw the big cursive letters began with an  _ M  _ rather than an  _ N _ .

“Kid, the  _ N  _ has two curves. The  _ M  _ has three.”

Peter kept his head down, staring at the paper as he nodded. “I know.”

Tony took another look at the paper, a closer look, and saw Peter had written  _ Mary  _ rather than Naomi, and he double checked the name he had printed - yup. Mary Parker.

Peter was looking at the paper tenderly, his face softening.

“My mom. She taught me cursive,” he said quietly, not taking his eyes off the signature. “Started with my name, then moved to the rest of the alphabet, but I loved writing her name the most. I saw it on school permission forms all the time. Tried to replicate it, just for fun, but I could never do it as prettily as she could.”

Tony looked back down to the signature in yearning. He couldn’t imagine a few cursive letters holding so much weight, being so special to someone. The only time he saw Howard’s name was on the bottom of official company contracts, and he had never gone on school trips. Howard said there was no point - you could learn anything you needed to from the bookshelf in his office.

Peter sniffled and looked back to Tony. His eyes were glistening, but he blinked it away. “Will this do?”

“Yeah.” Tony nodded and smiled softly. “That’s great. So, we’re going to Toronto to visit your parents. We’ll be down there for… a month. Enough time to convince the clerk we’re sleeping over with them, not enough for them to question whether or not we need our own living accomodations.”

Peter nodded in agreement. “And after that month?”

Tony shrugged. “Not sure. I don’t know whether they keep track of that, whether they’ll come for us after a month - or even before, if they catch on. But we’ll definitely need to change our names at the first chance we get, get a new car - actually, probably an RV, because we’ll always be on the move-”

Tony stopped when he felt Peter’s hand on his arm. He looked to the side to see Peter watching him, his eyes wide and sad.

“Will it ever end?”

Tony gnawed on his lip and returned his eyes to the road. Peter’s hand slowly fell away from his arm.

“If we change our names, lay low for the first few months….” Tony looked back to Peter with a small smile. “I think it will, Pete. I think we’ll be okay.”

Peter smiled and leaned back in his seat, looking hopeful for the first time in two days.

That hope was diminished when a sign on the side of the road came into view.

**_ Canadian Border _ **

**_ 2  miles _ **

Peter took a deep breath and looked to Tony, who placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and rubbed it up and down before pulling away. Peter voiced a reminder on the time although Tony didn’t need it:

“Two minutes.”

He didn’t need to clarify what those two minutes were counting down to - reaching the border, or James’ deadline? It was the same thing.

Tony nodded and started tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as they turned a corner and the border came into view.

“Rule number one, stay calm,” he instructed with forced ease. “Sit back in your seat. Look straight ahead. If you seem stressed, they’ll pull you over.”

“This conversation is just stressing me out more.”

Tony chuckled as they pulled into the line at one of the booths with three cars in front of them and one beside the booth.

“We should be fine. We just have to pray that Rhodes waits until we’re clear, pray that our clock’s ahead.” With a shaking hand, Tony turned on the radio, to see if James had leaked the news yet - but all the reporters were discussing was the results of a football match the previous night. He saw Peter relax slightly in his peripherals, and he turned it off.

The car moved up and Peter stiffened, his head pressed flat against the seat. Two cars in front of them.

“Relax,” Tony muttered through the corner of his mouth. “Breathe. We can get through this as long as we stick to our story.”

“And if we don’t?”

“We will.”

Peter closed his eyes and took a breath. In and out, inhale exhale. Tony just watched him, trying to exert suave and calm. Obviously, he wasn’t feeling  _ suave and calm  _ on the inside, but he had to pretend he was. If he panicked, Peter would panic, and Peter panicking would just make Tony panic  _ more _ \- it was a vicious cycle.

The car moved up. One car in front of them.

Peter’s breathing hitched, but he inhaled and held it for a few counts. When he exhaled, it was calmer. Still shaky, but the clerk shouldn’t be able to tell - Tony hoped.

“If anything, they’re looking for me,” Tony supplied through the corner of his mouth. “They’re looking for the Iron Assassin, not Spider-Man.”

Peter nodded, but it was too quick, too haphazard. He was nervous, and it was obvious.

“I need you to breathe, Peter. You need to try to relax. They have cameras as we drive up, so you have to be careful.”

The car moved up. They were next.

Tony adjusted himself so his head was resting completely on the headrest. He turned it so he was looking out the driver’s side window in what he hoped looked like an absent-minded way. The sound of shifting beside him told him Peter was doing the same.

No one said anything. They breathed in sync. Every now and then Peter’s breaths would quicken and escalate, but he was getting better at soothing them.

Soon,  _ too  _ soon, they got the signal to proceed - at the exact moment the clock changed to one. Tony eased onto the gas and forced his hands to steady against the wheel. Peter didn’t have that luxury and settled for tucking his hands beneath his thighs.

“Relax,” Tony muttered, keeping his eyes forward. “Breathe. It’ll be okay.”

Tony pulled the car up beside the booth window. A woman stared back at him, her hair pulled up into a tight bun, her expression portraying no-nonsense.

“Passports,” she demanded without waiting. Tony handed his over and passed Peter’s through the window. She looked at them both, then put them inside.

“Where are you two heading?”

“My sister’s house in Toronto,” Tony answered with ease and practised confidence. He wished he had put on his sunglasses beforehand. “Peter’s mom.”

“So you’re the kid’s uncle?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

The woman checked the passports again. “Do you have legal guardianship?”

“I don’t, but we have a signed note from his mother…” Tony grabbed it from the center console without looking at Peter and passed it back out the window- “here.”

The woman read it over, then looked back up between Tony and Peter. Tony prayed the kid was keeping his cool.

“How did he end up with you?”

_ Shit _ . They hadn’t prepared for this.

Tony fought to keep his voice level and breathing even as he lied through his teeth.

“He’s been spending a few months with me. His dad left, and Mary there-” Tony nodded toward the note in the woman’s hand, thanking his lucky stars he hadn’t slipped up and said Naomi- “wanted him to get a masculine influence, so she sent him to live with me.”

Yup, handled that one well.

“And you provide for him?”

“Yes, Ma’am. Food, bed, and I homeschool him in the evenings after work.”

“And what do you do for work?”

“Bank teller.”

The woman’s face was expressionless as she stared at him.

“Do you have any fresh fruit on board?”

Tony internally breathed a sigh of relief. They had passed the most important part.

“No.”

“Any alcohol or tobacco?”

“No.”

“When will you be returning?”

“In a month, four weeks today.”

The woman was reaching out the window to return the passports to Tony when he heard her radio crackle to life through the booth. His heart skipped a beat.

“ _ The NYPD is searching for two individuals by the names of Tony Stark and Peter Parker, believed to be the faces behind the Iron Assassin and Spider-Man. _ ” The voice continued to speak, but he couldn’t focus on it. His heartbeat was  beating twice as fast and four times as loud, and Peter was gripping his arm, fingers tightening. The women withdrew the passports with slightly widened eyes and reread them, then looked up to Tony and Peter.

She stepped forward out of the booth and reached for her radio.

“Sir, I’m going to ask you and your friend to park the car, step out of the vehicle, nice and slow, hands where I can see them.”

Tony looked to Peter, whose face was pale and his eyes wide. His grip tightened on Tony’s arm, but Tony gently pulled away without taking his eyes off of Peter’s.

“ _ When I say run _ ,” he mouthed, and Peter nodded - though, it was more like a jerk of the head.

Tony reached for his door handle, and saw Peter doing the same, his eyes never once leaving Tony’s.

“I have Tony Stark and Peter Parker at the Peace Bridge, Canadian-American border, requesting backup,” the woman was saying into the radio before she pocketed it… and replaced it with a gun.

Tony’s blood ran cold as he stepped out of the car and he heard Peter whimper from somewhere behind him. The two closed their car doors at the same time and lifted their hands above their heads.

“Young man,” the woman called to Peter. “Step over to this side of the vehicle.” Peter took a slow step forward, and the woman turned her gun to him.

Tony didn’t like that.

He leapt forward and wrapped his hands around the gun, attempting to pull it from her grasp.

“ _ Run _ ,” he called to Peter, and the boy stepped backward, keeping his eyes on Tony. “ _ Now! _ ” Tony yelled, just as the woman regained his attention by kicking her foot against his knee. He went tumbling to the ground but kept his hands on the gun and glared at her. He saw Peter running out of his peripherals, ducking under the bar and sprinting.

_ Good _ , was the last thing he thought before he saw Peter go sprawling.

The sound hit his ears a second later. It was a gunshot.

“ _ Peter! _ ” The strangled, desperate noise was ripped from his lips. His eyes were glued to the unmoving form on the pavement, which was enough to distract him. His hands loosened on the gun and the woman sent a second kick to his gut. He went sprawling to the floor, and she stepped closer to him with the gun aimed at his chest.

She reached for her radio with her right hand, keeping her dominant one on the gun, her left index finger on the trigger.

“Tony Stark is detained,” she said, not moving her eyes from where Tony was lying on the floor. “Does anyone have eyes on-”

Tony made his move.

He pushed himself up onto his knees and lunged forward, reaching for the gun - but the woman was quick. She stepped back, aimed - and shot.

With a shout so raw it couldn’t possibly have come from him, Tony went tumbling to the ground and grasped desperately at his left knee - but every movement sent a new ripple of pain up his leg. His knee was burning and throbbing all at once, a new sensation crawling up and down his leg with every passing second.

He reached for his knee and his hands came away red. And wet. And sticky.

Someone was speaking. A… a woman. Tony was fighting this woman, he remembered, but all reason was gone from his mind now. It had disappeared, vaporized, and was replaced with only  _ painpainpain. _

She was behind him all of a sudden and was rolling him onto his front. Tony swore as the pain returned to his leg tenfold in its connection with the ground. The woman lifted his arms and clicked something around them - handcuffs, Tony realized, but the cold they provided did nothing to counter the heat racing up his leg as he panted.

His vision blurred and his head swam as he rested his cheek on the pavement and looked to the side. People were running toward him - he could see their identical black shoes - and beyond them was… something. Some kind of bundle on the floor, unmoving-

_ Peter _ .

The name flashed in his mind as the women gripped his arms and hauled him up. Tony forced the throbbing pain to the back of his mind, fought the shivers that raced up his spine at the feeling of blood running down his leg, ignored the puddle of what seemed like glowing red on the floor in front of him, and focused on that one name.

_ Peter _ .

It sent warmth through him, rippled out in waves from his heart. Peter. He had to protect Peter, and Peter was lying on the floor, and there were people running to him, blocking him from view-

“Peter,” Tony choked out, cutting off the man in front of him who was reading him his rights. “Is he okay?” The person holding his arms behind him - was it still the woman, or had she been replaced? - tried to move him to the side, and he stumbled, his left knee buckling with a new flare of heat. Something in his leg seemed to shift, and a second person reached for him to help hold him up. Tony didn’t care. He fought against him, even if it meant he’d fall, because there was only one thing in his mind. One thing that was important to him.

“Peter. Where’s my kid?  _ Where is he? _ ”

His shouts went unheard - or ignored. Either way, no one responded.

Tony’s vision began to swim, and the throbbing in his leg grew more intense until it was all he could feel, see, somehow  _ hear _ \- but not all he could think about. No, the only thought crowding his mind was  _ Peter. _

These  _ stupid guards  _ kept trying to pull him away, but he fought. Their nails dug into his arms and his vision was swimming and his hands were reaching, trying to grab for  _ something _ -

“Peter,” he growled, fighting through the blurred vision and dull ringing in his ears and the fact that his leg was about to collapse and more guards more people more  _ hands  _ were touching him, grabbing him, “supporting him” by the minute and not  _ one  _ of them was Peter’s.

“I need- need to see-”

His voice was coming out quieter and quieter as he was led away from the place where Peter lay - maybe not even  _ breathing.  _ He tried to turn his head to look, to  _ try  _ to see the kid, but the colours were blending. He was getting dizzy. The pain in his head grew more intense, and he fought, he fought fought fought- but his eyes were fluttering closed.

He barely made out a blurry, black shape on the ground before shadows overcame his vision and he collapsed into the arms of four security men, his final thought overcoming the others and echoing like a chime in his mind:

_ Peter. _

⬩ ⬥ ⬩

Tony blinked his eyes open - but had to slam them shut against the harsh light above him. He groaned and tried to lift his hands to his face, but there was a jangle of chains he hadn’t heard in years that made him peel open his eyelids to confirm - yup. Handcuffs.

Tony pushed himself to sit up, the sound of the chains echoing harshly in his ears, and looked around the small room he was sitting in.

Beneath him was a bed, a simple cold, metal frame. There was some kind of horrendous-looking toilet in the far corner, which Tony had to look away from lest he gag right then and there. The brick walls surrounding the small cell were painted white, and were interrupted only by a barred window behind Tony and a single wall of bars in front of him.

At first, Tony barely spared the bars a glance in favour of looking around the rest of the cell, but something on the other side made him do a double-take. Past his bars, across the small hallway, and through another set, was Peter, lying flat on his own metal bed with bandages wrapped around his right shoulder, seemingly asleep.

Seeing him reminded Tony that Peter had been  _ shot  _ not too long ago. He feared it had…  _ killed  _ Peter, but they wouldn’t keep a corpse in a jail cell, right?

That sounded like the beginning of a bad joke.  _ If you put a corpse in a jail cell…. _

Tony squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, essentially telling himself to just  _ shut. Up.  _ He had no time to make shitty jokes now - he had to help Peter. He had to get them out of here.

Tony hurriedly pushed himself up from the bed. His vision swam and there was a ringing in his ears, but he pushed through it - and fell face-first to the floor.

A jolt of pain shot up his leg, starting from his left knee. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood to not let out a noise as what felt like electricity shot up his leg. It was only then he remembered that he had been shot - but his knee was now wrapped in gauze. It was stiff and felt almost locked in place as a result of the thick layers - but that couldn’t have been why he fell, could it?

_ What the heck? _

Tony groaned as he picked himself off the floor and looked behind him to see why he fell, and - shit. They had put  _ ankle cuffs  _ on him. A look across the hallway confirmed - yup, Peter had them to.

Awkwardly, very,  _ very  _ awkwardly, Tony rolled himself onto his back and pushed himself up to a sitting position. He grabbed the bars and hauled himself up, trying not to put too much pressure on his gunshot wound-

Gunshot wound. Whoa. Tony had gotten shot, with an actual  _ gun _ .

Wild.

“ _ Peter _ ,” Tony hissed through the bars, looking down the hallway for guards. So far, none were coming. “Peter, kid, you need to get up.”

A groan emitted from Peter along with something that vaguely sounded like  _ five more minutes. _

“Hey.  _ Psst.  _ It’s me, kid. It’s Tony, and you gotta wake up.”

Peter blinked his eyes open and glared at Tony before realization dawned -  _ realization  _ being, there were cold, metal bands surrounding his wrists and ankles and he and Tony were separated by two sets of bars.

Apparently it dawned  _ too  _ fast, because Peter started hyperventilating.

His eyes widened and his hands began to shake on the metal bed - Tony could see it through the bars between them. His chest was rising and falling too rapidly, and his breaths were echoing around the cell, sounding like church bells at a funeral.

“Peter. Peter.  _ Hey _ .” Peter raised his wide eyes to stare at Tony through the bars, shoulders heaving. He tried to stand up, but his legs trembled. He looked to his ankle cuffs in dismay and sat back down. “You don’t have to move. Just look at me, okay? Eyes on me.”

Peter nodded shakily and took a heavy breath. His breathing was slowing, which was good, but his chest was still heaving. He was panicking.

“Take a breath, with me. In for three, out for three.” Tony heaved an exaggerated breath, and Peter tried to mirror him. His white knuckles on the bed frame regained some of their colour. “Good. And again….” In for three, out for three. Peter’s shoulders stopped trembling. “One last time.” In for three, out for three. Peter’s shoulders slumped, his previously-swinging feet fell still, and his eyes momentarily fluttered shut.

“Okay. Alright, Pete, good. You okay?” Peter nodded shakily, but he was still staring at Tony with confusion and panic and worry and  _ fear _ . Step one: quench all that.

“Tony, what do we do?” Peter whispered harshly, looking around his cell in a haphazard panic.

“Step one, stay calm,” Tony urged, though he was feeling pretty fucking far from that right now. Here he was in a  _ jail cell _ , with the one kid he promised himself he would protect in handcuffs a few feet away from him behind his  _ own  _ set of metal bars, panicking.

Peter took another breath without looking away from Tony, who nodded in approval. Then, Tony began to look around his own cell to figure out some plan of escape.

“Are we still going after Ca-”

Tony shushed Peter with a sharp glare, and Peter flinched. Guilt wormed its way into Tony’s heart. Okay, he felt bad for startling the kid, but, really? They were in  _ jail _ . They couldn’t just  _ talk  _ about that.

“Step two is to get out of here,” Tony muttered, continuing to search around the cell. He thought he heard Peter begin to hum as his eyes travelled to the bars, the brick, the metal frame, the window - but he didn’t shush Peter. If humming was keeping Peter calm, he could do it as often as he liked.

As long as he didn’t talk about their  _ very illegal plans  _ directly under the watchful eyes of the authorities.

“Why, um….” Tony looked up at Peter’s anxious tone. “Why are we wearing…  _ these _ …” he lifted his wrists and swung his feet out, emphasizing the chains - “if we’re already in…” he swallowed thickly- “ _ cells? _ ”

Tony looked down at his own pair of chains, at a loss for words. “They… they must think we’re a threat,” Tony supplied weakly. He was torn between thinking,  _ Good. I am. Fear me _ , and,  _ Get those fucking chains off the literal child _ .

He didn’t have time to come up with a decision, because just then, a guard appeared between their cells and reached out to shake the bars on both sides. Peter flinched. Tony merely squared his shoulders and fixed the man with a defiant stare.

“Rise and shine, inmates,” he called in a voice far too loud for just the two of them. Peter shrunk back into himself, but Tony took a step forward.  _ Eyes on me, off the kid. _

The guard stepped toward Tony, eyeing him with slight amusement, as if he was saying,  _ I see through your tough exterior _ . Well, jokes on him. It  _ wasn’t  _ an exterior.

… That’s what Tony would make him think.

“So you’re the infamous Iron Assassin,” he challenged, in a voice that seemed to say, _Pathetic_.

Tony raised his chin.  _ What about it? _

“And this…” to Tony’s horror, he spun to face Peter- “must be Spider-Man.”

Peter made eye contact with the guard, but it was fearful, moreso keeping an eye on a potential threat than challenging it. His shoulders were hunched and he was pushing himself to the furthest corner of the cell, the rattling of his cuffs growing louder when they hit the frame of the bed.

This time, the guard actually  _ did  _ say it, scoffing and shaking his head. “Pathetic.”

“Hey.” Tony called out to the guard, panic spiking with every word he directed at Peter. The guard turned back to him with an ugly sneer on his face, that Tony found himself replicating the longer he looked at it. He wished he and Peter could at  _ least  _ be in the same cell. Tony couldn’t protect him this way.

“What are we doing here?”

“Did you think you were clever,  _ Iron Assassin? _ ” he taunted, and Tony just wanted to roll his eyes. “You’ve hidden for ten years. Then, five days after you come out of hiding, you’re caught?” The guard began to laugh, and Tony just glared.

“What are we doing here?” he demanded again through gritted teeth, and the guard sobered long enough to shake his head disapprovingly.

“Let me ask you something, Mr. Iron Assassin. In your ten years of hiding, have you heard of the Avengers?” Tony just stared at him. “Yeah. Of course you have. Have you heard of their leader? Thaddeus Ross?”

Tony begrudgingly shook his head.

The guard took a step closer to the bars, chuckling humorlessly. He and Tony barely had a step between them.

“Well, congratulations, Mr. Stark. You’ve made it onto the terrorist watchlist, and that means he’s taken notice. He has this… prison cell, see, but it’s more than that. Stronger than that. For people like you, and….” He shot a glance in Peter’s direction, who was now shivering, his eyes wide. “... and him. People who think they’re something special. People who try to go against heroes, because they  _ always  _ get taken down. Good always wins.”

Tony scoffed. “You sound like a Disney princess. Life isn’t a fairytale.”

“Let’s assess. You attacked Captain America, a hero, the embodiment of good. That makes you bad. Now, we’ve caught you. You lose. Good wins.”

“He’s not a hero.” Tony looked up with wide eyes when he heard Peter speak. He was sitting upright on the bed, back straight, and his eyes were no longer scared - they were  _ determined _ .

Tony was torn between being proud or yelling at him to just  _ shut up _ .

The guard laughed and turned back to Peter. To his credit, the boy didn’t flinch.

“He speaks!”

“Captain America is not a hero. He isn’t the  _ embodiment of good. _ ”

“And what makes you say that?”

Tony glared at Peter through the bars.  _ Shut. Your. Mouth. _ Peter’s eyes flickered to him, and only  _ then  _ did they show fear. He fell silent and dropped his eyes.

The guard scoffed. “Just what I thought.” He turned back to Tony, who resumed a passive stance. “You are under Ross’ jurisdiction now, so we aren’t allowed to ask you any questions. But be prepared. When he comes this afternoon, he’ll ask. Or maybe he won’t need to. He’ll already  _ know _ .” The guard stepped closer to the bars, and Tony sneered as he approached. “You lose.”

Tony didn’t say anything.

The guard hit the bars once more before walking away and whistling. Tony didn’t relax until he turned the corner and was out of sight. He let out a breath and released the tension from his shoulders.

With a loud rattling of chains, Peter pushed himself to stand from the metal frame and stuffled over to the bars. He looked uncomfortable, like he was on the verge of tears, and wanted to be anywhere  _ but  _ here - but he was holding it together pretty well, so Tony pretended he didn’t notice.

“What do we do?” he whispered, grabbing the bars. The chains hit against them and echoed loudly. He flinched, but just tightened his grip, trying to bring himself as close to Tony as possible.

“We have to stay calm. I’ll get us out of this, trust me-”

“Stay calm.  _ Stay calm _ .” Peter’s voice was getting louder, so he bit down on his lip and took a heavy breath. A second later, he tried again. “I can’t stay calm, Tony. I’m in a fucking  _ jail cell.  _ I’m fifteen and I’m in  _ jail _ -”

“You need to breathe, Peter,” Tony said sternly, “or we’ll never get out of here.” Peter glared at him before taking a deep breath. “Good. Now, whatever happens, we’ll get through it, okay? We just have to stay calm.”

“Yeah,” Peter sighed.

“Whatever Ross throws at us, we’ll handle it. I promise, Peter, I’ll get you through.”

“Yeah.” Peter nodded, and gave a small smile. “Okay. I trust you.”


	11. The Raft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Peter are introduced to the Raft, and Peter says something he's not supposed to.

_ Disclaimer: things are getting more heated now, a.k.a. more swearing on Tony’s behalf _

Tony’s mind was working a mile a minute. He needed to get out of here. He needed to get  _ Peter  _ out of here. They needed to escape, if just for their own safety, Captain America be damned.

It was Tony’s fault - he realized that now. He was stupid and reckless to try to go for Captain America in a single blaze of glory. He should’ve waited, planned better, gathered intel,  _ then  _ attacked.

It was Tony’s fault he and this fifteen-year-old kid were in jail, and he needed to get them out.

There was no way out of the cell, that was for certain - and even if there was, he and Peter were still in cuffs. They were still in  _ prison _ . They could wait until Ross’ guards got to them, transported them outside, then make a break for it - but that was a fat chance. Judging by this “prison” the guard had previously described, the men that came with Ross would most likely have heavy guns, and the only thing worse than being in captivity would be bleeding out from a gunshot wound.

Memories hit Tony like a truck. Peter’s body, falling lifelessly to the ground. His mangled form concealed behind multiple pairs of combat boots. Tony fighting against the officers, not even knowing if his kid was  _ alive _ .

Ok, so, no guns.

Tony forced the memories from his mind with a shudder.

“How’s the wound?” he called across the rows of bars, nodding toward Peter’s shoulder. Peter looked up, confused. “The gunshot wound,” Tony supplied, and Peter’s eyes widened.

“I was  _ shot? _ ” he whispered from where he sat on the metal frame, and Tony just stared.

“You don’t feel it? You don’t remember?”

Peter looked down at his shoulder with a sharp intake of breath, taking in the gauze that was layered there. “I-I mean, it was kind of numb, but I just thought it was, like, nerves or something.”

Tony bit back a sigh.  _ Mental note: teach the kid first-aid. A.K.A., nervousness doesn’t numb limbs. _

“So you don’t feel anything?”

Peter shook his head, looking concerned and pulling his eyes away from his shoulder with difficulty. “Just stiff, I guess. You?”

Tony looked down at his knee and moved it. The throbbing increased momentarily, but soon returned back to a dull pain. “Hurts. Pain spikes occasionally. Can’t put pressure on it. I’ve never gotten shot before, but I’m pretty sure it’s supposed to hurt more than this, so they probably gave me meds or something-  _ wait _ -”

Tony snapped to attention when Peter reached up to his bandages, but he couldn’t stop the kid before he was peeling off the layers of gauze to reveal….

Tony pushed himself off the bed, ignoring the pain in his knee, to step closer to the bars. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Peter had gone down. Tony heard the gunshot himself, and now, Peter’s shoulder was wrapped in gauze - so why was there barely a red stain? Why, when Peter pulled down his shirt collar, was the skin just a paler shade of peach?

Why was there no wound?

Tony looked down at his knee. The gauze was slowly but steadily becoming red as the blood leaked through. Was Peter just… tazed, rather than being shot? Was that an option? No, they wouldn’t have given him gauze for that-

“It works,” Peter whispered, staring up at Tony with wide eyes seeming to glow with discovery. “I-I didn’t think-”

“Slow down.” Tony held up his hands, then dropped them to rest against the bars. “ _ What  _ works?”

Peter stood slowly and inched his way toward the bars, checking the hallway between their cells for guards. When there were none, he looked back to Tony excitedly.

“Remember I told you about my…  _ condition?  _ My fast healing?” Tony leaned back, eyes furrowed. This couldn’t be true. That worked for scrapes and minor injuries, not  _ gunshot wounds- _ “Apparently, it works for gunshot wounds.”

A wide grin spread across Peter’s face as he stared at Tony. The boy looked…  _ giddy _ . Tony just looked back, mouth agape. He couldn’t believe this. It was uncanny - no, forget that. This was fucking  _ crazy _ .

The sounds of heavy footsteps -  _ many  _ of them - snapped Tony from his stupidor. He looked down the hallway, where shadows were appearing against the brick wall, then wasted no time in snapping his attention back to Peter.

“Bandage back on,” he hissed, and Peter, thank goodness, got the message. He reapplied the bandages as best he could and mirrored Tony’s actions to inch back until he was sitting on his bed, trying to look nonchalant. The obvious fear on his face gave away the illusion his body language was trying to portray, but Tony let him be. Any fifteen-year-old would be scared in jail. No one had to know this one was terrified about his secret being found out, one that might cost him way too much - might cost him  _ everything _ .

They settled themselves in their respective cells just as the offenders came into view. Tony counted six guards in full tactical gear holding machine guns. Three lined up in front of his cell facing him and the others in front of Peter’s, effectively shielding the two from view. Tony fought to ignore the pain in his heart when Peter disappeared from sight, his wide, terrified eyes accompanied by a quiet whine before the entirety of his cell door was covered.

The cell grew dark with the guards blocking the hallway light, and Tony slowly pushed himself to his feet, straightening his back and staring the guards down. They all seemed to be identical, but none were raising their guns, which Tony figured was a good thing.

“Are all these guards really necessary?” a whispered voice rose from the hallway. It sounded familiar - the guard from before? - but Tony couldn’t see him through the wall of what looked like enlarged plastic army men, with how still they were standing. It was  _ creepy _ .

The person who Tony assumed the question was directed at ignored it and instead chose to address Tony and Peter through the wall of guards. Tony couldn’t decide if it was funny, intimidating, or just plain stupid.

“Mr. Stark,” he called out. “Mr. Parker. I am Thaddeus Ross, and you are now under my jurisdiction.”

Tony couldn’t help but wonder how Peter was doing. Was he scared? Was he confused? He was being held in handcuffs in a cell he couldn’t leave, with three guns prepared to raise and shoot him at any time.  _ Fuck _ . Tony had to get him out of there.

“And what do you want with us?” Tony didn’t even know if his words reached Ross, through the wall of guards. It was kind of amusing to see, actually, three grown men standing frozen. Tony had a feeling he could do whatever he wanted and they wouldn’t shoot him, not without Ross’ orders.

“You’ve caused us a lot of trouble, Mr. Stark. You’ve managed to get close enough to attack Captain America twice, and though you haven’t succeeded, though they were  _ miserable  _ attempts-” Tony scowled- “we can’t have you making any more moves.

“You’ll be transported to a high-security prison, the Raft, where you’ll remain indefinitely-” A sound interrupted Ross’ speech that made Tony’s stomach churn. It was a sob - a sob coming from the cell opposite Tony’s.

His heart jumped into his throat. “Let me see him,” he demanded, but he only heard a scoff from Ross. “Move your guards. Let me see him, at least.”

“You think I’m dumb enough to grant you that?”

“I just want to see him, to comfort him-”

“You’ve installed fear in the hearts of New Yorkers, of  _ Americans _ , through the total of ten minutes you became visible to them. You tried to assassinate Captain America, and now you’re in jail. You’re in no place to be making demands-”

“He’s just a kid!” Tony shouted, getting closer to the bars with each step. Though he couldn’t see Ross, he hoped the increasing volume of his voice would prove he was serious. “Just let me-”

Tony froze when the triad of guards spurred into action, lifting their guns all at once to point to his chest through the bars. Tony eyed them in annoyance and kept his chained hands down while angling his fingers toward the ceiling - not yet surrendering, but showing he wouldn’t do anything else.

“Please.” He quieted his voice, hoping now Ross would listen to desperation and sentimentality, hoping he would have enough compassion to grant Tony’s wish. “Just let me see him. That’s all.”

“No can do.” Ross’ answer was immediate and annoyingly smug, sounding like the bastard was  _ enjoying  _ this. “You should’ve thought of this, of  _ all  _ the repercussions, before you tried to kill the Captain. Now, we’re going to move you out of these cells and into our vehicles and transport you onto the raft. And you will cooperate, otherwise….”

The guards began to move at once, and Tony stepped back, watching them skeptically. Light flooded into his cell as they all stepped aside. There was the scraping of metal, marking the opening of a cell door - but not  _ his _ . No, it was Peter’s, Tony could see clearly now.

He had a direct view of the kid, his ankles and wrists chained, stepping forward and standing in the center of the hallway. Tears were streaming down his cheeks. His eyes were wide and terrified as they looked at Tony, begging him to save him, to do  _ something _ , and Tony knew it would be the greatest regret of his life that he couldn’t, because one of the guards had his fucking gun to Peter’s head.

Tony’s heart jumped into his throat and he hurried to raise his arms, properly surrendering this time, but never taking his eyes off Peter.

“ _ Shit _ ,” he murmured under his breath. He felt the colour drain from his face. “Alright. No games. Just - just get the gun away from his head.”

Ross stepped forward just enough to block Peter’s shoulder from view, trying to inch his way into Tony’s field of vision, but still, Tony refused to look at him. “Can’t do that. See, he’s our insurance.”

Tony’s head snapped to the side to glare at Ross. “ _ What  _ did you just call him?” Ross shrugged, looking nonchalant - but that just angered Tony more. He stepped forward, and one of the other five guards pointed their gun at him, but Tony didn’t care. This was better, actually. One less gun on Peter. “He is not…  _ insurance _ . He’s a kid, a literal  _ child _ , and you’re holding a fucking gun to his head-”

Peter’s guard clicked the safety off his gun and Peter flinched, the sound echoing around the hallway. Peter closed his eyes and began to tremble slightly, and Tony pinched his lips shut. He moved his eyes to Peter, trying desperately to get a glance at those brown irises, because he didn’t know when he’d get the chance to see them again.

_ Come on, Pete, I know this is scary…. Just open those eyes for me…. _

Before he could, two guards were stepping forward and leading the way down the hallway, out of the prison. Peter was being shoved forward to follow them, and Tony only heard a whimper as the boy passed before being led out of sight. The remaining three guards levelled their guns at Tony as the previous officer (who Tony now saw was standing off to the side) unlocked Tony’s door and slid it open. Tony just glared at them, refusing to move, before two guards stepped forward and grabbed his arms, hauling him out of the cell. He moved his feet, only because the faster he walked, the sooner he could see Peter again.

The final guard behind Tony cocked his gun, and Tony felt like groaning. Don’t these idiots know? They could shoot Tony all they wanted. He didn’t care. Just don’t touch Peter.

Tony was led down hallways and around corners, the exact ones he could’ve sworn Peter went through, shuffling along in his ankle chains - but to his dismay, he never saw the kid. Maybe they led him out faster than they were doing Tony.  _ Or maybe _ , the darker part of his mind supplied,  _ they did something to him _ .

No. Tony forced that thought away the second it entered his mind, because they wouldn’t hurt him, right? No, of course they wouldn’t. There was no point in that - it would just be straight-up sadistic.

But maybe….

Before Tony could open his mouth to ask, he came to a stop at a doorway. One of the guards stepped ahead of him and opened it, and Tony shut his eyes against the sudden bright light - but he forced them open when the guards continued to push him forward.

When his eyes adjusted, he caught sight of two trucks, their trunk doors opened, parked side by side in the parking lot - and Peter was being pushed into one. Tony wanted to jump forward, but the guards gripped his shoulders, holding him back.

“ _ Peter! _ ” he called, and the boy turned back for only a second to look at him. His eyes were widened and his mouth opened as if to say something back, but his head was being pushed inside before he could, and the doors shut behind him.

Tony felt like screaming as Ross stepped ahead of him to lead him to the second truck, the guards holding his arms as they pushed him along.

“Why won’t you let me see him?” he growled, leaning forward to try to get at Ross.

“Mr. Stark, you are in no position to be making demands.”

“He’s a child.”

“And  _ you’re  _ a terrorist.”

“Not exactly,” Tony mumbled, feeling like a petulant child, as he was practically shoved into the trunk of the second truck. He was followed by two guards as Ross and the third stepped into the front seat. The door shut behind him, and he was left in darkness, becoming nothing more than a disembodied voice and a coiled spring of anger.

_ This is my chance _ , Tony thought as he tried to peer through the darkness. His eyes hadn’t yet adjusted after the bright light outside. From darkness to light, and back again.  _ It might be my only one _ .

Tony squinted and tried to look around. He could barely make out the shadowy figures in front of them. This situation would be much worse for him if he was claustrophobic, he realized.

A sudden thought hit Tony that almost sent him into a spiral.

Is  _ Peter  _ claustrophobic? Was he okay? The guards had to be acting gentler with him, right? Ross wasn’t there, and the guards should have enough minds of their own to not be so rough. They seemed to have established Tony as their biggest threat, so they should be taking it easy with Peter.

Geez, he  _ hoped  _ they were taking it easy with him. Peter didn’t deserve any of this.

_ Focus, Stark. Escape. _

Right. Guards, guns. Take a gun, shoot the guards and anyone else who came to retrieve them. Then, go get Peter.

Easy, right? Easy.

Except, he couldn’t see the guards. His eyes were only slowly regaining their vision, and with Tony’s luck, the guards most likely had some sort of night vision goggles - but he had to try, right? He had to attempt this, if for nothing other than Peter.

He just prayed they wouldn’t hurt the kid if he failed.

He was going to try it. He  _ had  _ to try it. On the count… one… two…

Tony relied purely on instinct.

He threw himself in the direction of the first guard and felt his body connect with something solid - not a wall, but a person. He had hit his target.

He heard a groan and pushed off the guard to fall to the floor - ideally, he hoped, between the two men’s feet. He raised his chained legs to send a two-footed kick in the opposite direction but hit nothing but air. He couldn’t keep the curse that escaped his lips as the guards started shouting. Then, he heard movement, and something was shoved in his face, close enough for him to discern in the darkness.

The barrel of a gun.

Tony planted his feet on the floor and shoved himself back. His head came into contact with the trunk door as the gun fired where he had been seconds before.

He kicked his feet and this time it hit the gun, judging by the guard’s curse and the clattering of the gun across the floor. With difficulty, Tony shoved himself to his feet and turned back to the first guard. He swung his fists (thank goodness they were chained in front of him) and delivered a punch to the man’s cheek, a dull thud erupting from the spot where his head hit the wall of the trunk. Tony reached down and fumbled in the darkness until his hands touched something cool and he picked it up, adjusting it until it rested on his shoulder so he could reach the trigger with his chained hands. He didn’t hesitate before aiming it in the direction the second guard had went and pulling the trigger.

Tony didn’t know if the bullet had hit his target, and the adrenaline was pumping in his veins to the point that he barely registered that he had just killed a man.

He had just killed a man.

_ Killed. A. Man. _

No.  _ No _ . Adrenaline. Get out.  _ Peter _ .

The truck came to an abrupt stop and Tony had to engage his core to keep from toppling over as the truck swerved off the road. He held his gun high and waited for the doors to open.

At first, there was silence, interrupted only by the sounds of Tony’s heavy breaths. The second those doors opened, the second daylight hit, he would shoot anyone he saw. He would shoot as many people needed to get Peter out safe.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion. The metal hinges of the door creaked. Daylight streamed through the crack. Tony couldn’t make out the faces of the figures before him, but that didn’t matter. He hefted the gun and his fingers tightened on the trigger-

“ _ Tony. _ ”

It was a whisper, barely a noise - but Tony heard it, and his heart dropped to his shoes. “Tony, please.”

Tony’s hands fell slack around the gun. He tried to squint against the light, but couldn’t make anything out.

“Peter?”

“Alright,” Ross’ voice interrupted, and Tony’s fingers tightened once more. “Now that  _ that’s  _ over with-”

Tony swiveled the gun to the left. “Kid, duck.” And then he started shooting.

Tony held down the trigger as he forced the gun in an arc, aiming for all the shadows that he  _ prayed  _ weren’t Peter’s (please,  _ please  _ don’t be Peter’s). He fought to hold the gun tighter to retain the recoil as bullet after bullet was released from the chamber, and body after body fell.

Part of Tony was glad he had terrible eyesight and they hadn’t adjusted yet - he didn’t have to look at the fallen bodies and come to terms with what he had done, what he was  _ doing  _ \- but the majority of him was terrified.  _ What if he was hurting Peter? _

That thought alone brought his finger off the trigger. His head echoed with the noise of the bullets as the gun clattered to the floor and Tony exhaled, staring out straight ahead. His heart was pounding loudly in his ears, blood seeming to pulse as it travelled through his veins.

“Peter?” he called, barely managing to bring his voice above speaking volume. “Are- are you-”

A new shadow appeared, a head popping up from below the trunk, and Tony’s vision returned just long enough for him to recognize those brown irises. Relief crashed into him like a wave and he raised his arms in Peter’s direction, a smile breaking out on his face. They were  _ free _ .

Tony’s vision wasn’t restored enough to notice the change of expression on Peter’s face as the boy stared behind him, and he had no warning when he felt something prick the side of his neck, and he fell to the floor of the trunk amidst Peter’s screams. They were the last things he heard before his eyes shut.

⬩ ⬥ ⬩

Tony woke to throbbing on the side of his neck.

He was lying on his right side on a cold floor, and gray seemed to be everywhere he looked.

Everything about him seemed to be in pain, but it all seemed to originate from his neck. He reached his right hand up to touch it and subconsciously brought his left one with it - and then froze. They weren’t connected anymore. 

They had unchained him. Why had they unchained him?

“Rise and shine.” Tony rolled his eyes and groaned when he heard Ross’ voice. He rolled onto his back, trying to ignore the throbbing in his left knee ( _ your gunshot wound. You’ve been shot _ , his mind helpfully supplied. Okay then. Somehow, he was still in shock) as he stared up at Ross’ sneering face above him.

“Get him up.”

Two sets of hands came out of nowhere to grab his arms and haul him to his feet. Tony winced at the pain in his knee, but forced it down, instead choosing to look around the room he was in.

It was a circular room, enforced with something that looked like steel - but from the way this prison was being described, Tony knew it had to be more than that. And it was obviously a prison, judging by the cells that lined the walls. Directly in front of Tony was Ross, smirking slightly, flanked by two guards on either side - and these ones were unbloody.

Tony wondered if the guards he shot had recovered, it he had missed, or if he had hit right on target, and these were new friends.

“I thought I shot you,” Tony said simply, and Ross just smirked.

“You tried, but….” Faster than Tony could register Ross sent a punch flying into Tony’s chin. His neck snapped back as he groaned, but one of the guards holding his arms reached up and grabbed his head, forcing it back upright. “You missed.”

“ _ Tony. _ ”

Tony’s eyes widened at the young voice that arose from behind him and he fought against the men holding him to turn around, but their grip was rigid. Tony just fought harder.

“Let me see him.”

Ross raised his hand, and the guards released their grip. Tony wasted no time in turning around and running to where he heard Peter’s voice, falling to his knees outside one of the cells.

There he was, sitting behind horizontal bars and a wall of glass - Peter, mouth agape, lips quivering, eyes red and wide and unblinking as they stared at Tony, begging for him to help, begging for him to  _ save  _ him. Peter’s hands were pressed flat against the glass and Tony raised his own to the bars.

“T-Tony-”

“Peter, I promise, everything will be okay-”

“And that’s enough of that.”

Hands once more grabbed Tony’s arms and forced him away from Peter, and Tony didn’t even have the strength to fight. He let them drag him away and turn him back to face Ross, taking in every inch of Peter’s terrified face before one of the guards grabbed Tony’s head and forced it forward.

Tony opened his mouth to say some kind of witty quip (he hadn’t decided yet) when Ross raised his hand once more to punch Tony’s right cheek. His head was slammed to the side as he momentarily blacked out and the throbbing in his head rivalled that of his knee.

“You had simple instructions,” Ross stated calmly as Tony spat on the floor and raised his head back to Ross’, forcing the most menacing look he could muster onto his features. “Cooperate. And you couldn’t even do that.”

Ross sent another punch, this time to Tony’s stomach, and all breath evaded him as he shrunk into himself with a groan. Someone screamed from behind him. It might’ve been Peter, but Tony couldn’t respond - because just then Ross sent a kick to his knee, and fire spread up his entire left side. He collapsed to the floor, his arms still being held behind him, and his eyes shut against the pain.

"Stop!" Peter shouted from behind Tony, but his calls went unheard - or, more accurately, ignored, except by Tony, who fought against the pain and turned his head to give him a small, comforting smile. The message must’ve been lost behind Tony's bruised and bloody face. "Stop hurting him! Hurt me instead!"

Ross hesitated, but Tony winced against the pain and fought to shake his head. "No," he spat from between bloody teeth. "No, s'me - me you want-"

Ross wound up to hit him again.

Tony turned his head to look at Peter, to give him a  _ shut your damn mouth  _ glare, but Peter smiled minisculely and shook his head. "I'm enhanced," he muttered. "I can handle it."

As Tony watched, something on Peter’s face changed. He lifted his head and his chest seemed to swell with purpose. Tony guessed what he was about to do. His eyes widened and he struggled against the guards’ holds, but they just tightened their grip.

"No- don't-"

But it was too late. Peter was already opening his mouth and calling out, shouting, so the whole room and everyone in it could hear:

"I'm enhanced."

Tony froze, his eyes wide as he glared at Peter. Ross didn’t seem to care as he stepped around Tony and approached Peter’s cell.

“Don’t-” A punch was sent to the side of Tony’s head and due to the odd angle he was sent sprawling, in such an awkward direction the guards were forced to release his arms. When Tony pushed himself to his hands, it was just in time to see Ross step directly in front of Peter’s cell. Peter just stood and tried to glare back as strong as he could - so, not that strong.

“Get away from him-” A foot was planted on Tony’s back and he fell silent. Peter’s eyes flickered to him for one worrying moment before returning to Ross.

Ross clasped his hands behind his back. “Explain.”

“Peter-” Tony choked on his own spit - or maybe that was blood. He didn’t care. One of the guards grabbed his hair and forced his head up and Tony winced, his back bending at an uncomfortable angle with the foot planted on it - but he couldn’t stop. “Don’t say another word-”

A kick was sent to Tony’s head and he couldn’t fight anymore. His head fell to the floor with a loud  _ crack _ and his eyes closed, his body falling lax. No matter what he did, he couldn’t get himself to  _ move _ . Maybe he was too tired, or maybe the kick had injured something in his brain. Whatever the reason, Tony was left with no locomotion and no visual, but crystal clear audio.

“I-I was bit by a spider a few years ago. I s-started to feel sick, and a few days later I woke up and everything was just…  _ clearer _ . I didn’t need my glasses anymore and I was noticing things I hadn’t before. I don’t think anyone noticed them, actually. I can stick to… to walls and- and anything, I think.” Peter took a shaky breath as a tear slipped out of Tony’s closed eyelids and down his motionless cheek. He was fighting, he was  _ fucking fighting  _ because he  _ couldn’t move  _ and he had to stop the kid before he-

“I have powers. I’m enhanced.”

Something that sounded oddly like a giggle erupted from Ross’ lips, and an awkward sensation that felt like a shiver if Tony could just  _ move  _ rolled up his spine.

"Ah. So it is not a he, and Peter is not its name." Ross’ voice sounded way too happy for the situation, almost  _ excited _ .

Tony's heart jumped into his throat.

"It is a mutant. Finally, our first one." Tony tried to force his arms to move, his legs to work. He wanted to burn this  _ whole fucking place  _ down. Mutant? Peter was not a  _ mutant _ , and Ross - Ross deserved to  _ burn  _ for that-

"Mutant 001, welcome to the raft."


	12. He Remained

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter faces the repercussions of his confession, and Tony learns how desperate their situation really is.

They dragged Peter away shortly after his confession. Four guards had to hold Tony back with how viciously he was fighting, the immobility wearing off. Maybe the exhaustion was fading, or his willingness to _get Peter back, save him_ overpowered any sort of “head trauma” he may or may not have had. They couldn’t even force him into a cell - they could barely hold him in place.

Peter was led out of the room by Ross with a guard holding each of his arms, but Peter was being  _ compliant  _ for reasons Tony didn’t understand. He wasn’t fighting - he was going  _ willingly _ .

Tony wanted to yell at Peter, tell him to  _ fight _ . He’s not sure if he actually said something, or was just thinking it and got confused through his anger-filled haze. All he knew was Peter was being dragged away, and Tony couldn’t follow.

Tony finally settled down when Peter left his view, long enough for the guards to throw him into a cell a few doors away from Peter’s. He barely reacted as they threw him to the floor and closed the two layers of protection, of containment, behind him. He didn’t have the strength to move himself to the bed beside him. He remained curled in the fetal position on the floor, awaiting Peter’s return.

If you asked the Tony of one week ago what he would’ve done in this situation, he would’ve said,  _ I’d fight. I’d find a way out.  _ And he probably would have.

But the Tony of one week ago hadn’t yet met Peter. He hadn’t yet met the kid who he would soon be promising protection, shelter, from the world and all its horrors the authorities hid from him, the people in power don’t want him to see. He wouldn’t have felt like he failed because they took Peter Parker. The Tony of one week ago would probably agree with what they were doing to Peter, or at least not mind it.

Tony shuddered at the thought.

The Tony of today would trade any chances he might’ve gotten at Captain America, bargained them for Peter’s safety. He didn’t know what Ross was doing to the kid, but he knew it couldn’t have been good. He was reminded of his own words then, said just that morning -  _ You’ll be targeted. People will try to figure out how you tick. They’ll forget all their other goals, ambitions. Investigating you would be their number one priority, and I don’t even want to think about what that investigation entails. _

It seemed Peter had taken Tony’s words to heart - but not in the way Tony had hoped. Peter knew Ross would drop everything, including his attack on Tony, to take the bait. To go for Peter instead.

Peter knew. And he still  _ did it. _

Tony would have to have a serious talk with Peter when he returned…  _ if  _ he returned. Tony had no idea what Peter was going through now, but he knew one thing. If Ross and his goons hurt Peter, if they even lay a  _ finger  _ on him, Tony would burn this whole fucking place to the ground.

Tony didn’t move. People walked by his cell. They’d jeer at him. Sometimes they’d shake the bars.

Tony didn’t move.

He didn’t move until… well, maybe he  _ sensed  _ Peter. The boy definitely wasn’t saying anything, but the door to the room clanged open and footsteps entered.

Tony’s head snapped up and he fought through the momentarily black spots doting his vision to push himself to his feet. He staggered to the wall and pressed his nose against the glass, fighting to get as close as he could to the motionless figure that was currently being dragged into the room between two guards.

“Peter?” he screamed, panicked. His attention was solely zeroed in on the limp figure being supported by the guard’s piercing grips on his arms - and so he jolted back when someone tapped on the glass of his cell.

“Not  _ Peter _ , Mr. Stark. Its name is 001.”

Tony stepped to the glass, entire body seeming to tremble with anger as he squared up to Ross, who seemed to have suddenly materialized in front of him.

“His. Name. Is.  _ Peter _ .”

Ross just smirked and turned to face Peter, calling for the guards to stop. They pivoted to face Tony’s cell, Peter hanging limply between them.

“Peter,” Ross called, and Tony turned to look at Peter, his heart beating loudly in his ears. The boy didn’t respond. “001.”

To Tony’s horror, Peter looked up, eyelids fluttering open as he met Ross’ gaze. Ross turned back to Tony with a shrug - but Tony wasn’t looking. His attention was zeroed in on Peter.

“Peter,” he called desperately, but the boy didn’t look. Tony swore under his breath.  _ No, no, no _ \- “ _ Peter _ . Pete. Look at me, bud.”

Peter’s eyes didn’t move from Ross. His voice was quiet and unsure, and it broke Tony’s heart. “C-Can I-”

“ _ No _ , 001, you may not.”

Tony wanted to snap Ross’ neck.

“Deliver it to its cell.”

Tony watched in horror as the guards turned and dragged Peter to a cell a few doors away from Tony, just out of his view, and literally  _ threw him in _ .

Tony slammed his fist against the glass as he glared at Ross. “You let me see him,  _ now _ .”

“Mr. Stark, how many times do I have to say this? You are in no position to be making demands.”

Tony closed his eyes. Squeezed them shut. Inhaled. Exhaled. When he opened them again, his shoulders were set, his eyes hard, his chin raised. When he spoke, his words were calm. Precise.

“You have a child,  _ my  _ child, locked up. Thrown in a cell. Treated like an animal. You refuse to call him by his name, and I don’t know what you did to him to have him now responding to a number.”

Tony stepped forward, closer to Ross’ unrevealing face, until the space between them was almost entirely filled by the glass wall.

“You have me currently contained, locked behind bars. It looks like you’re going to win this one. But know this.” A smile grew across Tony’s features - one that was cold, full of malice. Didn’t reach his eyes. He quieted his voice to a whisper. “Appearances can be deceiving. When I get out of here, because I will, I will come for you. I will tear you apart, piece by piece, until there’s nothing left, and when you’re bleeding out, begging for me to kill you, I will lock you in one of these cells, behind one of these doors, and leave you there to die.” Tony lowered his chin until his eyes were mere slants. “Do you understand?”

Ross tilted his head. “Are you trying to threaten me, Mr. Stark?”

“I’m trying to prepare you.”

Ross smirked and turned away without another word. Tony slammed his hand against the glass. “I’ll come for you, you hear me?” he yelled, and the entire room seemed to reverberate with his screams - but no one responded. The main door shut with an echoing  _ clang _ , keeping Ross and his goons out - or Tony and Peter in. Whatever that meant, whoever was in power (Tony firmly believed it was him), he and Peter were now alone, meaning he had to get some work done.

Unfortunately, those assholes had put Peter in a cell just out of Tony’s eyesight.

“Peter?” he called into the empty space between them. He knew the cameras and audio were recording, and so he had to do this quick. “Peter, I know you’re there, and I know you can hear me.”

No response.

Tony leaned forward until his forehead was resting on the glass and closed his eyes. “Peter, I don’t know what they did to you in there, and I don’t know what they told you to have you responding to a number, but you can’t believe it. You can’t believe any of it, okay?”

The speaker hidden behind bars in the corner of Tony’s cell crackled to life, and Tony grit his teeth but didn’t otherwise change his position when he heard Ross’ voice.

“ _ Stark, stop speaking to the mutant. _ ”

“You’re not a mutant, Peter, no matter what they say, you hear me?”

“ _ Stop speaking now or extreme measures will have to be taken. _ ”

“You can’t listen to anything they say. You’re not a mutant, you’re a boy. You’re not a number, you’re Peter Parker.”

The door to the room began to slide open again and Tony opened his eyes at the noise. He watched as it seemed to open in slow motion to reveal first an arm, then a torso, then a gun - and that was only the first guard in the line.

Tony hastened his words.

“You are Peter Parker. You’re fifteen years old, and you attend Midtown School of Science and Technology.” Tony was too busy watching the first guards run into the room, he didn’t even think to put the words in past tense. “I’m Tony Stark. You remember me, right? You have to.” The guards split into two groups. The first ran towards Peter’s cell as the bars began to peel back. The others were doing the same to Tony, but they were shaking the bars as they moved, yelling at Tony to  _ Shut your mouth, inmate. _

“You remember May, right? Your Aunt May?” Tony shouted as guards began disappearing into Peter’s cell. They reemerged seconds later, dragging Peter with them - but Peter was no longer limp, his eyes lifeless. He was looking around, confused - until he saw Tony. His eyes widened, and he started struggling. Tony watched as the guards looked down at him in surprise.

Tony laughed triumphantly, even as his cell door began to open, even as guards began charging in.

“Remember, Peter! You can’t forget!” A guard slapped his cheek and Tony stumbled blindly to the side. He kept speaking because he needed to talk to Peter before they took him away. He needed to convince him.

“Peter Parker!” Tony shouted, fighting to regain his footing as the guard delivered another punch, and his vision was being speckled with black. “Peter Parker! Fight, Peter Parker, fight!”

But Peter was already being led out of the room with nothing more than a faint call of  _ Tony  _ before the doors shut behind him.

Tony grinned victoriously at the guard before a sudden punch sent him sprawling to the ground. He landed with a grunt, a jolt of pain flaring up his left leg once more.

“001 has received its training,” the guard said sternly, and a growl rose in Tony’s throat at the words. “Now it’s your turn.”

The guard grabbed Tony’s hair and pulled, and Tony sucked in a breath as pain erupted where the hairs met his scalp. He grit hit teeth and moved his eyes back to glare at the guard, who was staring down at him with a menacing grin.

“His name is-”

The guard sent a kick to Tony’s stomach before he could finish and the breath was crushed out of him. The guard released his hold on Tony and he fell to the ground, immediately wincing and attempting to curl into the fetal position, to protect his injured stomach as much as he could. He squeezed his eyes shut and fought to regain his breath, and when he finally did he slowly peeled them open to see the guard walking away from him - and turning around a second later with a pair of handcuffs.

Tony weakly pushed himself up to his hands just in time for the guard to reach him, dangling the cuffs menacingly between his fingers.

“You gonna come willingly, or will I have to use force?”

Tony glared and grudgingly held up his wrists, sneering as the guard clicked the cuffs into place, thicker cuffs than were standard with a shorter chain, and hauled him to his feet. He shoved Tony in the direction of the door Peter had just left, and Tony almost stumbled over his own feet trying to hobble along at the pace the guard was pushing him with, now, too many injuries to count.

The guard led him out of the room into a standard-looking gray hallway, two more in tow, their guns at the ready. Tony’s eyes searched the walls, the floor, the ceiling, but he saw nothing he could use to his advantage, especially with his cuffs - the gray was interrupted only by small, dim lights and security cameras. Lots of them.

“Where are we going?” Tony tried to ask, but only got a grunt in response as the guard grabbed his arm and pulled him through hallways and around corners, too complex for him to remember. “Are we going to see Pe-”

Tony felt the gun of a barrel press against his back and he clamped his lips shut with a grunt.

“You will refer to it as 001.”

“I’ll refer to  _ him  _ by his name-”

The guard held his arm in front of Tony’s chest, forcing him to stop, and the gun moved to the back of his head. Tony flinched on instinct - and hated himself for it.

“We refer to him as 001, and you will, too, unless you want to receive the same fate.”

Tony’s eyes widened. “The same fate? What are you doing to him?”

The guard returned his hand to Tony’s arm and continued to pull him forward, but Tony’s heartbeat had risen substantially. He was panicked - he was fucking  _ terrified _ . Anger faded away. All that remained was desperation, was  _ fear _ \- for Peter.

He tried to pull against the guard, but his resistance did little to nothing in his injured state and with the guard’s strength. “He’s my- That’s my kid! A literal child, a human being!” he yelled, pleaded, tried to reason in desperation, but the guards didn’t stop. They didn’t react. They barely hesitated.

“Do you have family?” He turned to face the two guards behind him, one with his gun still up. That didn’t discourage Tony, not in the slightest - not when he knew Peter’s safety was at stake. “Please, do any of you have family? You have to understand, this is a  _ human being _ , this is a child, and you’re  _ hurting  _ him! For what? Curiosity? Answers?” Tony swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Weapons?”

“All good ideas, Mr. Stark.” Tony froze when Ross’ voice echoed from hidden speakers that seemed to surround the entirety of the hallway. The guards stopped walking - out of respect? Orders?

“Ross.” All that anger from before had burned away, and now, now that Tony had been kicked and punched and beaten and bruised and his kid was being hurt in ways Tony didn’t know and Tony couldn’t stop it-

He wasn’t angry. He was  _ hopeless _ .

It rose like a current over him, slow and gently creeping up on him until he was swept under the waves, tumbling and turning and desperately trying to reach the surface with no way of up, no sense of down, no idea of the right direction to go in. Was there even one?

“Ross, please,” he begged. “If you have a shred of humanity, of decency, you’ll stop whatever you’re doing to him, you’ll give him a break-”

“ _ It _ , Mr. Stark-”

“ _ No! _ ” Tony shouted, falling to his knees. The guard released his arm and he heard guns cock from behind him, but maybe Ross said something, because they didn’t shoot. “ _ Him! He! _ He’s a boy, Ross, a human, a  _ man _ -” The desperation began to rise in his throat and mixed with the hopelessness in a horrible swirl of emotions, the current dragging him under. He collapsed back on his heels and dipped his head, squeezed his eyes shut, hoped for something different, wished to be anywhere  _ but  _ here.

A week ago, when planning his attack, Tony would’ve said,  _ Worst-case scenario is just jail. _ But now that Peter was involved, now that they had formed… what, a bond? Worst-case took on a whole different meaning.

A loud voice spoke again, but it was distorted, garbled in Tony’s water-clogged ears. The current was growing.

Hands grabbed his arms, hauled him to his feet. He let them. He couldn’t fight. A small part of his brain… wanted to, maybe. Thought this might not be so hopeless. He would find a way out - he always did.

A bigger part thought,  _ not this time _ .

Tony was dragged into a room with white walls rather than gray and dropped into a chair in front of a table. He didn’t acknowledge it. He didn’t look up. His eyes remained trained on the ground, his shoulders sagging, his eyes lifeless.

They could do whatever they liked to him. It no longer mattered. Tony didn’t even think he would care. Nothing could affect him anymore-

“Tony?”

Tony blinked. That couldn’t be James’ voice. It couldn’t, because James hated him now. James had turned him in. They were as good as enemies.

“Tony, look at me, please.”

Tony raised his eyes… and blinked. James was there. It  _ looked  _ like James was there, but James couldn’t  _ possibly  _ be there, and-

“Are you okay?”

A laugh bubbled up in Tony’s throat. He couldn’t identify its origin, but he let it out anyway. James’ brow furrowed.

“You look….” Tony forced the laughs down long enough to speak to James’ apparition. “You look almost real.”

James’ mouth fell open. “I  _ am _ real, Tony.  _ Hey _ .” James extended a hand to the centre of the table, palm up, when Tony turned his head away. “Look at me.”

Tony continued to laugh as he pushed himself up from the table, stark white walls everywhere he looked. “Great. Hilarious, Ross, I’m done now. You’re not getting in my head like you got in Peter’s-”

Tony froze when he felt a hand on his arm. He turned and it- it was-

“ _ Rhodey? _ ”

James nodded with a small smile, eyes wide and watering slightly. He had stood from the table and leaned across it to grab Tony’s elbow tightly - and he had yet to release it. He was wearing a brown bomber jacket, just like the day Tony fell in love with him. Tony didn’t know how he remembered that or why that specific piece of information resurfaced now, but it felt important that he acknowledge it.

Tony stepped quickly around the table toward James, but a loud noise seemed to erupt from everywhere that had Tony collapsing to his knees in pain. The sound stopped as soon as it had come, and Tony was left staring up at James - who, he noticed now, had earphone-like contraptions in his ears.

James gnawed on his lip. “You can’t make any advances toward me. Ross… he briefed me on that when he let me in here.”

Tony stared up at him, betrayal running hot in his veins. “But you touched me.”

“I can initiate it, but you-”

“They think I’m dangerous.”

James sighed before slowly lowering himself back into his chair. Tony followed suit, still skeptical - especially because James was avoiding eye contact. “What is it?”

James opened his mouth, closed it again, then opened it once more. “They… want to exert dominance. The words Ross used was…  _ to ensure you know your place _ -”

Tony shook his head sharply, a joyless smile on my face. “That’s not it.”

“What? Then what is?”

“They’re trying to make me feel less like a person. Dehumanization.”

James blanched. “Tony, that can’t possibly be it, they wouldn’t be that cruel-”

“Just-” Tony ran his hands through his hair, pulling at strands. “Why are you here, Rhodes?”

“I wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s true, Tony-”

“What do they want from you?”

James ran a hand along his chin. “They want me to… make you cooperate. They say you’ve been difficult. Putting up fights-”

“Are you proud of me?” Tony smirked, but James’ eyes just grew sad. He leaned forward over the table.

“They have video, Tony, but no audio. Those were my terms when I agreed to come in here-”

“So this isn’t just a social visit?”

“- _ so _ , when I ask you this question, I expect you to answer honestly, okay? For me. It’s just me.” Tony sat back in his chair and held up a hand, signalling for James to continue. “How are you?”

Tony didn’t answer. He stared at James, and for a moment none of them spoke.

“How long has it been?” Tony asked rather than answered. He was suddenly becoming aware of how tired he was, of the exhaustion seeping into his bones, about the lethargy that accompanied him whenever he moved-

“Almost a day.”

Suddenly Tony was laughing again, his eyes falling closed as the giggles overtook him. James watched in dismay.

“Tony, please, just talk to me-” Tony didn’t answer. It was only when James sighed and stood from his chair when Tony snapped out of his stupidor. He shot his hand out and grabbed James’ arm. The sound assaulted him a second too late, because he had already found James, and he wasn’t letting go.

The sound was unreal, like everything all at once but nothing he could ever describe. He just grabbed onto James tighter. He wasn’t letting go now.

A hand wrapped around Tony’s own, and the sound subsided just in time for Tony to hear James shout, “- _ initiated it. It was me, alright? Stop! _ ”

Tony fell, gasping, to the floor, bringing James down beside him with the unrelenting grip on his arm. Tony was tired, exhausted both mentally and physically, and now there was a pounding in his head that may never go away - but he was  _ not letting go of James _ .

“Tony?” James’ voice was soft and concerned. Tony discerned James was somewhere above him because - yeah, Tony was on the floor, so James….

Tony opened his eyes, and James’ beautiful browns stared back at him.

“Tony, what’s going on-”

“Hold me, Rhodes,” Tony found himself sobbing. He didn’t know why he was crying. He didn’t know why he was suddenly so overcome with emotion, of first anger, then desperation, then hopelessness, and now sorrow, but he just needed James. Needed his comfort, his presence, needed  _ him _ .

“Okay,” James whispered as he wrapped his arms around Tony’s back and helped him sit up. He pulled Tony to his chest almost protectively, and Tony let his head fall limp against James’ shoulder. “Okay, Tones, I got you. It’s alright-”

“Why’d you do it?” Tony whispered, and he felt James stiffen beneath him. “Why’d you turn me in?”

“I had to, Tony,” James answered, equally quiet. “You’ve broken the law in more ways than one. You attacked Captain America, I warned you-”

“But you still love me.”

The room was silent and tense, and for one terrifying moment, Tony feared James wouldn’t answer - until a  _ yes _ escaped his lips, so quiet it barely reached Tony’s ears.

“Why?” James demanded through whispers, clutching Tony tighter. “Why’d you do it? I warned you, you idiot, why’d you do it?”

“It was my only choice-”

“It  _ wasn’t _ . It wasn’t. I would’ve helped you, Tony, I would’ve helped you through anything-”

“You had the chance to,” Tony spat, his voice harsh. James’ hands fell away from him. “You turned your back on me.”

Tony stayed on the ground, looking up at James as he pushed himself to his feet. James shook his head and licked his lips, looked around the room, looked  _ anywhere  _ but at Tony.

“You left me, Rhodes. If you loved me, if you  _ truly  _ loved me, you would’ve stood by me-”

“You’ve  _ changed _ , Tones!” James shouted, glaring down at Tony, who had fallen silent. James’ voice quieted, like he didn’t have the energy to speak up. “You’re different. You’re not the same man I fell in love with. I don’t care… I don’t care  _ what  _ my heart says. You’re not.”

James turned his back to Tony, and his heart ached with every new step James took away from him. Tony wanted to call out, to say something -  _ anything _ . He couldn’t just let James walk away.

“They’re referring to him by a number.”

Tony didn’t know why he chose that of all things. It seemed to be at the forefront of his mind, but it had  _ worked  _ \- James froze in his tracks. He didn’t turn around.

“Peter. I don’t know what they did to him, but they took him away and brought him back and now he… he doesn’t answer to  _ Peter  _ anymore. They call him….” Tony had to force the words from between his teeth. “ _ It _ . Not him,  _ it _ . He responds to 001. I had just broken through to him but they….” Tony sighed, blinked back tears. James was still standing frozen, his back to Tony. Maybe if Tony kept talking, James would stay. James would  _ help  _ him.

“They took him back, Rhodey. They dragged him away and he- he  _ called out  _ for me. You can’t tell me you support this-”

“I don’t,” James answered quickly, voice quiet and sounding strangled. “I don’t support it, but the government - the  _ law  _ \- does. And you have to abide by that now, Tony, there’s no other option-”

“He’s a  _ kid _ -”

“You should have considered that before you made your choice.”

Without another word, James held his hand up to one of the far walls. It slid open, and he was gone, disappearing into the gray hallways without a glance back.

Guards flooded in. Tony couldn’t count how many. They grabbed him, hauled him to his feet, pulled him out. He didn’t fight them. He let them bring him back to his cell. He lifted his head only once to look for Peter as he was being led in, but Peter wasn’t there.

They deposited Tony in his cell before walking out immediately after. Peter wasn’t there, and now James was gone, but Tony remained.

He remained.


	13. James' Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The events that follow, from James' perspective.

James left the sterile, white room with a heavy, conflicted feeling in his heart. He didn’t know where he stood with Tony, but he missed him. He desperately wanted to rekindle what they once had, but to do that, Tony would have to revert to being what he was before, and James didn’t think that was an option; so instead, he turned his attention to what Tony had told him about the kid.

_ It _ .

They were calling Peter  _ it _ , referring to him by a number. James was very familiar with the law, and understood that only meant one thing - Peter, Spider-Man, was a mutant (or, at least, the government’s definition of one).

Ross caught up with James sometime during his mad dash out of the labyrinth of hallways that was the Raft. He had to escape. He had to  _ do something  _ about this. He didn’t agree with what they were doing to Peter - although, he didn’t exactly know what that entailed. He had fought against the law when they tried to change it to account for these so-called “mutants,” but Ross had too much power and the law was passed. Under it, mutants were not considered  _ people _ , and the government had the right to do whatever they wanted with them.

James wanted to throw up just thinking about it.

“Rhodes, did he tell you anything? Anything of importance?”

James kept his head forward and his pacing steady as he continued his trek toward the landing pad, and the small plane that was waiting on it. “No, Sir.”

“Are you sure?”

James turned sharply and fixed the General with a skeptical stare. “Are you questioning my loyalties, Sir?” He said the title with venom, but kept his posture straight and his hands behind his back, respectful.

“Of course not, Colonel. However, this man and his acquaintance are a threat to civilization, and so if he gave you any information, I remind you that it is your duty to report it.”

James grit his teeth at the way Ross called Peter an  _ acquaintance _ , like he didn’t want to refer to him as a man like Tony, but he didn’t want to admit to him being a mutant, because Ross  _ knew  _ his treatment was wrong.

Bitch.

“Yes, Sir, I understand,” he responded through gritted teeth. “I did not receive any information.”

“You hugged him. He endured our sound guns just to  _ touch  _ you. Clearly he told you  _ something _ .”

“Told me to go to hell.”

Ross regarded James skeptically, but he didn’t move. “Might I remind you, Colonel, that any information withheld-”

“Might I remind  _ you _ , General, that I do not appreciate others doubting my integrity. I was under the impression that my rank as Lieutenant Colonel earned me respect. Is that not the case?”

Ross scoffed. “Don’t be silly, Rhodes-”

“I would appreciate being able to get to my plane, Sir.”

Ross set his jaw and stepped aside. James nodded his thanks before stepping forward and putting Ross behind him. He kept his eyes straight ahead as he stepped into the back seat of the plane, and as the military-issued pilot took off. He refused to look back at the prison below him and instead focused forward on what to do next. He had the end goal - get Tony and Peter  _ out  _ of there, but a. he didn’t know how, and b. that was  _ illegal _ .

Alright, well… Tony had to be  _ somewhere  _ for the last ten years, right? Howard’s mansion. James should start there.

⬩ ⬥ ⬩

The second his plane landed James was off, leaving with barely a  _ thank you _ toward the pilot. He climbed into his Chevrolet Cruze (electric blue - he had argued against it, he really had, but Tony had insisted, and since he was paying…) and set off immediately in the direction of Howard’s house.

_ “What do you mean, you got held up?” _

_ “I mean my car didn’t start, Tony,” James sighed, kicking the wheel of the shitbucket he had just climbed out of and slamming the door shut behind him - which just bounced back open. Tony stepped forward, met James in the middle of the Stark’s driveway. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, but his arms were flexed. James knew how to read the signs. Tony wanted to reach out, greet him somehow, hug him, kiss him, just hold his hand - but he couldn’t. Not in Howard Stark’s driveway. Not with security cameras watching. Not with the world watching. _

_ James leaned against the car and shrugged. It creaked precariously, but he didn’t move. The car was fine - he had lived with it for years, and his mother before him, and before that, his uncle. _

_ Tony took a step forward and cocked his head with a soft smile. “Well then, I guess I have to buy you a new one.” _

_ James laughed. “Yeah. Blue, if you wouldn’t mind.” _

_ “You like Chevrolet?” _

_ James froze. “What, are you serious?” _

_ “Can’t be late anymore, honeybear.” Tony stepped forward and shook his head in disappointment. “I won’t allow it.” _

_ “Yeah? Well, I won’t allow you to buy me a new car.” _

_ “Too late.” James lunged for Tony, but he was already stepping back, out of reach, and beginning to type on his phone. _

_ “Tony.” _

_ “Yeah.” _

_ “ _ Tony _.” _

_ Tony groaned and looked up from his phone. “What?” _

_ “What are you doing?” _

_ “I’m ordering you a car.” _

_ “You can’t order a car-” _

_ “I’m doing it.” _

_ James reached for Tony, but he hopped back and continued to type. A sly smile began to grow on James’ face. Tony noticed and his eyes widened as he began creeping back, up the driveway. _

_ “No.” _

_ “Yes.” _

_ “James, don’t do it, my dad’s home-” _

_ “I don’t care about your dad.” _

_ “You should-” _

_ In one, fluid motion, James jumped forward and wrapped his arms around Tony, hoisting him into the air. Tony laughed as he wrapped his legs around James’ waist and touched their foreheads together, biting his lip in an attempt to bury his smile. It didn’t work. _

_ His arms hung loosely over James’ shoulders, the blue light of his forgotten phone illuminating the back of James’ head, making him look like an angel to Tony in front. _

_ “I don’t care about your dad,” James whispered, and Tony’s smile fell. He self-consciously pulled his head away from James’ and gnawed on his lip. James tightened his hands around Tony’s back. He wasn’t letting him go. _

_ “I do,” Tony whispered, and jumped down from James’ grip before taking a step back, a step away from him. _

James hadn’t thought about the electric blue in years. The first few months after Tony’s disappearance it was all he could see, and it was a constant reminder about the way things might’ve been, what it  _ could’ve  _ been - but soon it faded into the background of his mind, and Tony’s electric blue car representing promise and a hopeful future simply became… a car.

Intense feelings of despair manifested in James’ mind as he maneuvered the car down streets of expensive houses and rich neighbourhoods. He could pretend, all he wanted, that he didn’t care about Tony. That he was over it. That just the man’s name didn’t make his heart beat twice as fast and his mind blank of all logical thought - because that  _ was  _ illogical, right? Tony was bad, verging on evil. He was a  _ criminal _ .

Well, if Tony  _ truly  _ was a criminal…

Then James loved a criminal.

James slammed his foot on the break a little too hard when the thought made itself clear in his mind - he was just lucky to have made it onto Howard’s driveway before the car slammed to a stop. He leaned his head forward to rest on the steering wheel.

_ I’m in love with a criminal. _

_ I’m in love with Tony. _

_ I’m in love with a criminal. _

James took a deep breath in, followed by another, followed by another. He really did love Tony. He tried to swallow it, bury the feelings, but he kept thinking of Tony’s intelligence. His smile. His jokes. His soft hair. The way his face just…  _ lit up  _ when James walked into the room - and, what James thought was, his inane goodness.

James groaned at his own conflicted feelings as he lifted his head off the steering wheel - and then groaned for a different reason. He hadn’t noticed it until now, being too preoccupied with… with  _ love  _ \- but Howard’s mansion was  _ swarming  _ with authority.

There was police tape halfway up the driveway and NYPD officers patrolling the perimeter, plus more accompanying investigators and people in lab coats in and out of the mansion.

Oh boy.

James turned off the ignition and pocketed the key, stepping out of his car with his attention focused solely on the man guarding the centre of the police tape. Head of security, James guessed. He stepped forward, his jaw set, and the man ducked under the tape to meet him.

“Excuse me, Sir, this is the sight of an ongoing investigation. All citizens are advised to stay back-”

“That’s Lieutenant Colonel Rhodes to you.” James flipped open his wallet and held it up, revealing the silver, leaf-shaped badge on one of the flaps inside. The man stared at it, then moved his eyes back to James’ face. James pocketed the badge without averting his gaze.

“And what does the army want with some low-level New York crime?” the officer continued, crossing his arms over his chest. James lifted his chin.

“We’re searching for information. It’s classified.”

“You’re searching for information, or it’s classified?”

James smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He noticed the officer recoil slightly. “It’s classified information.” The officer didn’t budge and James sighed as he rocked back on his heels. “Look, officer-” James didn’t even bother to check the man’s badge- “if there’s an issue, I can call my superior. However, I don’t believe he’d appreciate being bothered over a simple security issue, but if that’s what’s required ...”

The officer set his jaw and nodded once before stepping aside and lifting the tape for James to duck under. He continued forward to the front door of the mansion without looking back.

The inside of the mansion was… a completely different place. Long gone was the organized extravagance of the Stark household, for now it was replaced with tools scattered around the scene and yellow evidence cards with large, black numbers on them dotting the space. James barely spared them a glance as he headed for the staircase, workers glancing curiously at him as he passed. He didn’t look back. He only had eyes for the room tucked into the corner of the second floor, strategically chosen to be furthest from Howard, with the door - that was usually closed - currently ajar.

James pushed it fully open as the hinges groaned, causing the one man inside on his knees wearing a lab coat to look away from his magnifying glass. He looked skeptically at James as he straightened his back to its full height and fixed the man with a commanding stare.

“I need this room.”

The man leaned back on his knees and looked up at James with a sneer. “I’m in the middle of something.”

“And you can finish it when I’m done,” James answered without missing a beat. The man looked down to the yellow card with the number 263 on it and whatever was behind it that he was investigating, then back up to James with scorn before pulling himself to his feet.

“Don’t touch any of the evidence.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

The man gave James one final glare before he huffed and left the room. James closed the door behind him and rolled his eyes before turning and looking around the room that he was never technicallyallowed in - but was always in anyway.

The window in the corner was unlatched, just like Tony always left it for him. The blue sheets (the same colour as James’ car, he realized) were tangled around the foot of the bed, just like they always were, and James wondered when they had last covered a person. Not because Tony had been gone for ten years, but because before that, he never slept - unless James was by his side, running a comforting hand through his hair.

James sighed and turned away from the bed, focusing his attention on the large desk in the opposite corner, covered with papers and more yellow cards. A pain grew in James’ heart when he noticed the two framed photos that sat above them all, photos of… well, of  _ him _ .

_ “You’re going so slow,” Tony whined as he looked behind him, but James didn’t look back. His eyes were directed above them at the yellow and orange leaves that rained down from the trees of Central Park. Tony and James came here often, that was true - but the park was so large, and on each adventure they took a different route. Tony was eager to get to the Bethesda Terrace, their favourite spot, but James wanted to take his time and enjoy the view of the sunset from behind the multicoloured leaves. _

_ Tony reached behind him for James’ hand and attempted to pull the man forward, but James planted his feet and fixed Tony with a mock disapproving glare before tilting his head back again. He didn’t let go of Tony’s hand. _

_ As James stared at the leaves above him, he was perfectly content. It was autumn, his favourite season (Tony’s was winter), and he had his favourite person in the world with him. Everything was perfect - until James heard a camera shutter click. _

_ He shot his head back down to see Tony holding a disposable camera in front of his face, grinning wildly behind it. James couldn’t keep the smile off his own face as he pulled Tony forward by their interlocked fingers and snaked his opposite hand around Tony’s waist as the camera slowly lowered to reveal Tony’s beautiful, brown, bambi eyes, shining like a light in the quickly-growing dark. Tony was still smiling as James bowed his head to plant a gentle kiss on his lips and closed his eyes. No one pushed, but that was okay. They were calm. It was quiet. They were together. _

_ Everything was perfect. _

_ Until James heard another click, and he was to pull away from Tony’s smiling lips. _

_ James kept his arms around Tony’s waist as he leaned back and shook his head. Tony shrugged with a shit-eating grin. _

_ “What? It’s for the memories.” _

And there the photographs were, the memories, displayed proudly, one beside the other. The quality was awful in both of them, partially because of the lighting and also the camera quality of ten years ago, but James loved them nonetheless.

He shouldn’t have done what he did next. The police had photos of the room, he was sure, and someone would notice they were missing - but James didn’t care.

He grabbed the frames and shoved them into the large, inside pockets of his trenchcoat.

James sighed. He didn’t know why he was there. He didn’t know what he was looking for. This was a huge waste of time. He was surrounded by police and people just trying to do their jobs and uphold the law - which he was currently breaking.

James was about to turn around and leave when something on Tony’s desk caught his attention and he froze.

It was… a remote, James guessed, but it was difficult to tell. It was clearly homemade - buttons and wires interlocking atop a cheap piece of plastic - but it did  _ something _ , James was sure of it. Something important.

Very carefully, as not to disturb the surrounding papers, James lifted it from the pile - and gasped. Beneath it was a diagram of the very same suit he had seen Tony in that fateful night. The Iron Assassin suit. James snatched it up and rolled it into a tight cylinder and pocketed it along with the remote.

With his pockets full of four stolen treasures, James left the room, thanked the annoyed worker waiting outside, left the mansion, climbed into his car, and drove away without another word.

⬩ ⬥ ⬩

James parked in a McDonald’s around the corner and laid out his treasures on the seat beside him, turning the frames face-down to focus on the other objects - the remote, and the diagram.

James stared in awe at the large piece of paper with markings and equations. It was, simply put, a  _ masterpiece _ . There were makings James recognized, of course - he and Tony had taken many of the same classes at MIT, after all - but there were also so many things he  _ didn’t _ . All he could conclude was that Tony had created an entirely new mode of transportation… or weapon of destruction.

_ This would be great for the army _ , was James’ original thought as he scoured the sheet - but then he closed his eyes and shook his head. No, this was  _ not  _ a weapon for the army, nor was it a mode of transportation.

It was a means of escape for his best friend… for his boyfriend.

_ No.  _ James shook his head in distaste. Fuck it. This was a means of escape for his fiancé.

James picked up the remote with a new passion in his heart. He loved Tony - he truly did. He tried to deny it, but he  _ couldn’t  _ anymore. What Tony did, attacking a public figure like that, it was  _ wrong  _ \- but Tony had been kidnapped, essentially  _ tortured _ . He was forced to rescue himself, and for that he was bound to have some sort of PTSD, a bone to pick - but James still loved him. James would help him work through this, and then, they would go off the grid. Get married. This was- okay, maybe this was a little premature, maybe this was  _ crazy _ , but this was all James wanted. He had survival skills from the military, and Tony’s intelligence was bound to get them through. They could  _ do  _ this.

But first, James had to get Tony out of the most secure prison in the world. Then, he had to figure out what to do with the fifteen-year-old imprisoned with him.

Alright, well… there were three buttons on the remote, labelled with the numbers one to three respectively, and… and there was a legend, at the bottom left corner of the blueprint, in Tony’s handwriting.

_ 1 - attract _

_ 2 - override _

_ 3 - self-destruct _

James’ brow furrowed in confusion. If he assumed all the buttons could be used for the suit, self-destruct made sense, and override would erase any previous commands, he assumed - but what was  _ attract?  _ And where was the suit, anyway? Would the wireless signal cover the distance?

Tony wouldn’t have used the suit as his form of transportation to get away from the authorities. That would have been illogical and a dead giveaway to his pursuers - plus, he couldn’t bring Peter with him. He must’ve taken a car with the suit in the back, but when he was stopped at the border, they would’ve taken his car,  _ and  _ his suit, and locked it away somewhere. James just hoped they hadn’t destroyed it - if Tony was as smart as James knew him to be, it would be their escape.

So…  _ attract _ . What did that mean? Attract to what?

James didn’t know, but it was their only hope.

He pressed button #1.


	14. With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ross grants Tony his wish, and James decides where his loyalties lie.

Tony sat on his metal bedframe, staring listlessly at the bars across from him. His shoulders were hunched inward, his hands lightly resting on his knees, his eyes unfocused. He… didn’t know what to do.

Surely James wouldn’t just leave him, right? Tony had to hope for  _ something _ . There was no way James would be comfortable with how they were treating Peter. He had a strong moral compass, Tony knew that - but he also knew that James worked for the government. He followed the law, and that meant…

Did that mean he supported this whole  _ mutant  _ law?

“Meal time.”

Tony didn’t even look up as a guard stepped in front of his cell with a meal tray in hand. He moved to slide it through a slot in the glass when Tony shook his head.

“Give it to Peter.”

“The mutant doesn’t get food.”

Tony’s breath caught in his throat and he looked up, eyes wide and shoulders beginning to tremble with visible anger. “ _ What? _ ” His voice was low and raspy with emotion and barely controlled, and the guard pulled the tray back slightly.

“This- this is your food, Mr. Stark, no one else’s-”

“No, I heard that.” Tony pushed himself to his feet and crept toward the glass, head slightly bowed. “What do you mean, he doesn’t get food?”

“I’m under orders to bring you your tray-”

Tony slammed his hand on the glass, and the guard stepped back. “Why is he not eating?” Tony demanded. “ _ Why aren’t you feeding him? _ ”

“Sir, your meal-”

“I don’t  _ fucking care  _ about my meal!” Tony shouted, and the guard pulled the tray out of the slot. “Why aren’t you feeding him? What the  _ fuck  _ is wrong with you people? You’re all insane-”

The guard touched his earpiece amongst Tony’s screams, then turned and began to back out of the cell, tray in hand. Tony didn’t care- he wasn’t hungry.

“ _ Answer me,  _ you son of a bitch!” Tony shouted, but the guard had already left the room, the door slamming shut behind him. Tony scowled, then slammed his fist against the glass once more before returning to his bed. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t  _ fucking right _ . His thoughts were running a mile a minute. His emotions were going haywire, and he was never feeling less than three at a time. Currently, it was anger, despair, hopelessness, and disgust. How could they treat a person like this? How could  _ anyone  _ treat a person like this?

Tony knew this was all his fault; he knew that. He knew it was because of him that this child was now being treated as… as  _ not  _ human. As a  _ thing _ , all because of Tony, because of his  _ fucking  _ ego.

What a fucking idiot he was.

Tony sat on the metal frame and dropped his head into his hands. He settled like that for a minute before an intense feeling of rage overcame him and he threaded his fingers into his hair, pulled as hard as he possibly could, and  _ yelled _ . This wasn’t right -  _ none  _ of it was.

Tony was screaming one minute and crying the next. He was being broken down from the inside out - just the isolation, the desperation, was enough to get to him. Throw in the thought that he had forever screwed up a fifteen-year-old for the rest of his life, throw in the thought that James was right, that Tony should’ve listen to him, that he never should’ve done what he did-

The emotion was getting to be too much for Tony. Readjusting to society, to being around people rather than AIs after ten years of comfortable isolation, was enough to make anyone go crazy. Add in the traumatizing events that most people didn’t experience - that if they were lucky, they’d never  _ have  _ to experience - and Tony was going  _ insane _ .

The large, main door opened, the loud  _ clang  _ startling Tony out of his quickly-spiraling thoughts. He almost didn’t react, expecting it to be just another guard, or Ross  - but then he listened to the footsteps. There wasn’t one pair, or even two - there were three, and the sound of something sliding against the floor.

Tony’s head shot up to confirm his suspicions. He looked behind the guard leading the pack and between the two behind him to see - Peter, being dragged by his arms across the floor, his head lolling down against his chest.

“Peter?” Tony’s voice was quiet, barely there, and he had to clear his throat and try again. “ _ Peter? _ ” There was no response. Peter was dragged in front of Tony’s cell on the way to his own and Tony got a better look - his pale face, the bruises around his temples, and trail of blood leaking from his nose. For a moment, all Tony could do was  _ watch _ \- but then Peter almost left his vision, and he spurred into action.

“Wait,” he called out to the guards, but they kept moving, and soon only Peter’s legs were within view. “ _ Wait _ , please, just- just let me see him.  _ Please _ , I just want to see him-”

The speaker in the corner of Tony’s cell crackled to life, the sound sending Tony’s heart sinking to his shoes.

“This was your choice, Mr. Stark,” Ross’ taunting voice rang out. “This is your fault.” Tony couldn’t even find it in him to be mad, not when he was too busy looking after Peter, trying to soak up the last pieces of him that were visible, the last bits of confirmation that he was  _ okay _ \- or, at least… not dead.

“Please,” Tony whispered. “Please. Just… I can’t do anything from in here, okay? You know that. I won’t be trying anything. Let me see him, just… talk to him.”

Tony watched as Peter almost left his sight… and then stopped, his ankles and bare feet the only things left in view. Tony held his breath, not daring to move his eyes.

“Look, you let me speak to him, I’ll be more compliant. I won’t be fighting you all the time. Just… put him across from me. Let me see him, talk to him.  _ Please _ .”

Tony waited, heart beating loudly in his ears. He didn’t know how he had become so…  _ soft _ , so gentle when it came to this one child. He didn’t know how Peter had won over his heart so easily, but he  _ had  _ \- and now he was Tony’s top priority.

“Fine.” Relief flooded Tony’s veins as Ross’ voice crackled through the speakers. “You may see it. I can’t find any harm in that, but no pronouns, Stark. Are we clear? You will refer to it by 001 or nothing at all.”

“Yeah,” Tony choked out, as Peter was pulled back into view. He didn’t even care about not being able to say  _ Peter _ , to address the kid by his name, because at least he was able to  _ see  _ him. At least he’ll be able to check that Peter’s okay.

They pulled Peter - still hanging, lifeless - to the cell directly across from Tony, and he almost collapsed in relief. Even as they dropped Peter to the ground, even as four layers of doors were placed between them, Tony was relieved. He might even say he was  _ happy _ .

The guards left, the sound of the door closing and Ross’ final statement of “ _ We’ll be watching _ ” marking Tony and Peter’s independence. They were being left alone, for now.

Tony stepped close to the glass, practically squishing his nose to it in an attempt to get as close to Peter as possible. He placed both hands on the glass as he looked across the room at Peter’s unmoving form-

Wait.

Wait, Peter wasn’t  _ unmoving  _ \- his shoulders were quivering, shaking. He was  _ crying _ .

“Hey.” Tony tried to get Peter’s attention without using his name - he would rather do this than have Peter leave his sight - but Peter wasn’t moving. “Hey, P-” Tony bowed his head and sighed.  _ Forgive me, Peter.  _ He raised his head, eyes wide and red, and looked back at Peter from where he was lying on the floor with his back to Tony. “001.”

Peter moved instantly, and it crushed Tony’s heart, how quick he pushed himself to his feet to stand facing Tony - head up, but eyes down. As much as it pained Tony to see, he couldn’t help but smile at…  _ Peter _ . He was seeing  _ Peter _ , directly across from him, without a guard to regulate their communication, to block their views.

“Hi there,” Tony said gently, not having the energy to raise his voice any louder. “How are you feeling?” 

Peter didn’t move, or react in any way - but maybe his shoulders stopped shaking. Maybe he stopped crying.

“Can you look at me, please?” Even that simple request would’ve sounded friendlier if Tony could’ve addressed Peter by his name - but he couldn’t. Not yet. Soon, when Tony got them out of here, when his suit could find him through the multitude of metal and restraints holding it back, Tony would call him  _ Peter _ . Peter Parker, over and over, until all these horrible practises and rules Ross and his goons had stuck in Peter’s head dissolved. Until then, though, Tony would keep attempting to summon his suit and hope the thrusters would eventually break through whatever bonds Ross had them in.

Peter’s eyes shot up to Tony. They were red-rimmed and brimming with tears, but they were still making eye contact.

Tony smiled; sad, but… hopeful.

"Hi. You… you remember me, right? You know who I am?" Tony held his breath. He didn't think their…  _ training _ involved making Peter forget his old life, but then again, he wasn't really sure of  _ anything  _ anymore.

Peter nodded once, but he didn't smile, and Tony was overcome with the urge to… hm,  _ murder  _ Ross.

"Alright. We'll… we'll be okay, right?" Tony tried to reassure Peter - but if he wasn't even sure of that himself, how could he convince… well, his ward?

Tony set his expression and fixed Peter with a determined stare. "We'll be okay," he promised, wanting nothing more than to address the boy by his name. To say,  _ We'll be okay, Peter _ . But he couldn't. He  _ wouldn't _ , and so, he would find ways to say Peter…  _ without  _ saying Peter.

"I'm with you," he said simply, as clearly, and with as much support, as he could muster. He needed Peter to hear him, to  _ understand  _ him.

"I'm with you," he repeated, and even though Peter didn't respond, even though Peter didn't even seem to  _ hear  _ him, he said it again, and again, and again.

"I'm with you." Peter remained frozen.

"I'm with you." He didn't even bat an eye.

"I'm with you." No matter how much emotion Tony forced into his voice, Peter's lifeless eyes stared back. That didn't stop Tony. He would break through to Peter. He would replace whatever nonsense they had put in his head, he was sure of it.

"I'm with-"

But Tony didn’t have time to finish. Just then there was a loud  _ crash _ , and the ceiling caved in, bits of rubble tumbling to the floor just outside of Tony’s cell. Lights flickered. Alarms went off. Tony ducked his head and covered it with his hands, although nothing breached his cell door. He looked up a moment later, and there, amongst the fallen rubble and distorted alarms and in the shadows of the night from the broken ceiling was an Iron Assassin suit, one of the earlier marks, the silver reflecting light from the stars that shone above it.

At first, Tony stood, too shocked to move. That wasn’t the mark 42, or the mark 50 that he had brought with him. That was one of the earlier suits that he thought had self-destructed. Why was it here? He hadn’t called it-

“Tones.”

Tony’s world came to a grinding halt. His breath caught in his throat, and it felt as though his heart had stopped beating.

“ _ Rhodes?” _

The suit raised its gauntlet. “Step back, Tony. I’m going to bust the door open.”

Tony wasn’t listening. This must be a dream, right? James had turned his back on Tony. He walked away. There was no way he was here,  _ now _ , with access to Tony’s suit, probably breaking 20 different laws, just to save him.

“ _ Tony _ .”

Tony stumbled to the side of his cell, unable to take his eyes off the suit that stood before him, the beauty that was James coming to his rescue despite all the wrongs Tony had done. He watched in awe as the gauntlet lit up and a beam shot at the glass - and he looked away a moment too late. Shards of glass embedded themselves in his arms and cheeks and essentially the entire left side of his body, and he cursed as he looked down at the protuberances in his skin.

“Shit, Tony-” James stepped forward to stand at Tony’s side. He reached out a gentle hand to grab and inspect Tony’s arm, but Tony withdrew his arm - and then moved forward all at once to engulf James in a hug. James sighed before tentatively placing his arms around Tony.

“I told you to stand back, you idiot,” he whispered, sounds coming distorted through the suit. Tony shook his head against the chestplate.

“Don’t care.”

“Yeah, well, you should.”

James withdrew suddenly when a loud  _ bang  _ erupted from where the door to the cells was currently blocked by rubble. The guards were trying to get in.

“ _ Crap _ . Tony, we don’t have time for this. Where’s the kid?”

Tony stepped around James, the sting in his arm forgotten as he hurried across the room, climbing over broken pieces of rubble to the cell opposite. There was debris and rubble occupying the floor just outside of the glass, but the inside was untouched, and there Peter stood, standing straight with his wide, worried eyes following Tony’s. Tony stepped to the glass and rested his hand on it while offering Peter a reassuring smile.

“We’re getting out of here,  _ Peter _ .”

The boy flinched at the sound of his own name, and Tony wondered why he had spent all that time going after Steve when Ross was right there.

Another  _ bang  _ erupted from the pile of rubble near the door, and James cleared his throat in warning. Tony took a step away from the glass, letting his fingertips fall from it.

“You need to stand back from the glass, Peter. Stand off to the side, hands covering your head. We’re gonna break it open.” Peter followed the instructions immediately, almost robotically, and Tony hated thinking that it was better this way - at least he would move faster.

James shot through the glass and Tony was stepping over the threshold before the shattered pieces could hit the ground, grabbing Peter's shoulders and turning the kid to face him.

"Peter.  _ Shit _ , Peter, I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry, crap-" He tugged Peter against his chest without another thought and the boy fell into his arms, stiff as a board. James cleared his throat again.

"Damn, Tony, I knew you swore, but I don't remember you swearing like a sailor." Tony laughed, and it was more hysterical than controlled, the events of late catching up to him now that they were finally over. He continued to cackle, his grip on Peter growing tighter until the boy began to squirm uncomfortably. James stepped forward and lay a gentle hand on Tony's shoulder.

"Tones?" he asked quietly. "You alright?"

His words were interrupted by another loud  _ bang _ , and the sound of rubble shifting. They were almost here.

"No time for this," James murmured angrily, before grabbing Tony by his shoulder and pulling him back, slapping him across the face. The laughing ceased immediately.

"I need you with me for this, Tones. Are you with me?" Tony swallowed thickly before nodding, and James looked behind him to Peter, who was standing still, terrified.

"Alright. I'm going to have to carry you both out of here until we find land. Please tell me your suit is strong enough for that." Tony nodded curtly. "Perfect."

James turned to Peter first with open arms as another  _ bang  _ echoed in the room. "Come here, kid. Hold tight." Peter stepped forward slowly and wrapped his arms around James in a half-hug as the left arm of the suit folded around his waist. Then, James turned to Tony, and held open his other arm. Tony stepped forward, and James repeated the process with him.

"I missed this," Tony said just before they took off, another  _ bang  _ and the groaning of already loose rubble accompanying his words. James sighed as he ignited the thrusters. They had to get out of there,  _ now _ .

"What, me busting your ass out of jail? Yeah, happened more than once."

Tony laughed with glee as the suit shot up into the open air, the loud  _ clang  _ of the heavy door being forced open and Ross' frustrated screams accompanying him as they shot off into the night sky.

"Where are we going?" Tony yelled as the haunting lights of the raft faded behind them.

"A safe place," James replied, and Tony allowed himself to relax into James' grip. A safe place sounded good.


	15. Safe Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James brings them to a safehouse.

James set them down 15 minutes later in a suburban neighbourhood, all house lights off and no street lamps in sight - only shadows in the dead of night. There was a brightly-lit city a little ways away, a hundred skyscrapers rising up from nowhere and dropping off just as sudden. Tony looked around as his feet touched the ground in the middle of a two-lane street, eyes searching the quaint houses on either side of him, when memories hit him like a truck and he froze.

Tony turned back to James, who was now cradling a sleeping Peter in both arms (a funny sight, as he was still wearing the suit).

“Your mom’s house?”

James shrugged. “It’s a safe place. Plus, I tell her everything. She’ll be cool with it.... I hope.” That last part was added under his breath, like he hoped Tony wouldn’t hear. He did. “Hey, help me with the kid.”

Tony stepped forward and took Peter from James’ arms, set him down lightly on the pavement so he was standing with Tony’s arm around his shoulders.

“Hey, Peter,” Tony said softly in an attempt to wake up the sleeping boy, running a hand gently through his curls - and fighting not to recoil when he felt some kind of substance coating them. He prayed it wasn’t blood. “We’re safe now. You wanna wake up for me?”

Slowly, Peter’s eyes blinked open, and his weight slowly weaned off of Tony until he was standing upright and blinking blearily at the space around him.

“You alright?”

Peter looked back to Tony, eyes wide. “Safe?”

“Yeah,” Tony whispered, clutching Peter tighter. “We’re safe now.  _ You’re  _ safe.”

Peter leaned into Tony with a sigh. “I wanna see May.”

Tony’s back stiffened and he bowed his head in an attempt to look Peter in the eyes. “What?”

“Wanna see her. Please, Tony, I-I  _ need  _ to see her.”

Tony readjusted his grip on Peter and looked worriedly up to James, who had exited the suit and was now shrugging back like,  _ I got nothing _ .

Tony put both his hands on Peter’s shoulders and pushed the boy to arms’ length, met his watering eyes.

“I’m sorry, Peter, you can’t.”

Peter shook his head. “No,” he sobbed. “No, I  _ need  _ to see her, Tony, I need to.”

“Peter, you can’t-”

Peter raised his fists and hit them against Tony’s chest. In his weakened, delirious state, it barely had any effect. “Let me see her. I need to- She’s my  _ aunt _ , let me see her-”

Tony tugged Peter forward into his chest and wrapped his arms around Peter’s shoulders, holding him tightly as the boy sobbed against his chest. “Okay,” Tony murmured as he rested his chin atop Peter’s curls. “It’s okay. We’re okay,” he breathed, just happy to be holding Peter in his arms again. He knew Peter had a right to see his Aunt - Tony had essentially kidnapped him, after all - but he also knew there was a very good chance of them being caught if they returned to New York. If Peter insisted, though, Tony couldn’t deny him that, but they’d just have to figure it out when they got there.

James met Tony’s eyes over Peter’s head, a sense of urgency in his eyes. Tony knew they needed to get inside, knew Ross and his goons could come after them at any moment, but now he just wanted to hold Peter. Peter, who may be sobbing and homesick, but he was also free and out of a cage and living, breathing in Tony’s arms - and Tony didn’t want to let him go just yet.

“Hey, Pete?” he whispered, and Peter’s cries quieted slightly. “Why don’t we go inside, okay? Safehouse. We’ll regroup in there.”

Tony felt Peter nod against his chest, and he looked back up to James and nodded once, passing on the message. With a deep breath, James turned to his left and approached the brownstone house. Tony gently pulled away from Peter and stepped toward the suit James had just left, which was currently standing vacant. This was one of the older models, meaning it couldn’t shrink into a briefcase or to an easily-concealable size. Well, there was no point in trying to hide it now. James was already knocking on the door.

Tony set the suit to follow him when he moved, not wanting to leave it on the street, before turning to Peter and tilting his head toward where James stood at the door. Peter stepped forward warily, looking worriedly at Tony as he passed, and Tony stepped forward to stand beside him on the front steps, placing his hand lightly on Peter’s back. Tony understood what Peter was feeling right now. The last time they decided to trust somebody, they were betrayed. Who knew what would happen this time?

The door hinges creaked, and Tony held his breath as it swung open to reveal an elderly women, though thin and standing tall and proper, wearing pajamas. She was squinting through the glasses sitting on her nose, trying to see who had woken her up at three o’clock in the morning - and then her eyes widened as she recognized the face of her son.

“James,” she smiled as she leaned forward and hugged him tightly.

“Hi, Mama.”

Tony was about to clear his throat to make his presence known, but before he cold Ms. Rhodes noticed them on her own.

“Oh,” she said quietly as she pulled back from her son, her gaze trained solely on Tony. James turned to look at him self-consciously.

“Ma, I guess I should explain-”

“No need. The less I know, the better,” Ms. Rhodes interrupted faintly, waving him off and sighing. “Well, are you boys going to come inside, or are you going to stay on my doorstep all night?” With that she turned and led the way inside, leaving James to send a confused look to Tony and Peter behind him. Ms. Rhodes… she wasn’t surprised? Tony was declared dead. For ten years, actually, and he was her son’s fiance - so, needless to say, Tony was expecting  _ some  _ kind of reaction.

James just shrugged and followed her in. Tony gestured for Peter to go in front of him, and he followed last, closing the door behind the suit that followed.

As he stepped into the two-bedroom bungalow that Tony used to spend nights in, memories came flooding back over him.

Yelling with James about what a shitty father he had.

Allowing James to spread cream on his back to soothe the red belt marks.

Being fed by Ms. Rhodes when he wasn’t even welcome at his father’s table.

There were the bad memories, the reminders that Tony’s time spent here mainly revolved around Howard’s awful parenting - but there was also the good.

Pacing back alleys, hand-in-hand with James, where no one knew his name, or could judge him, or hold him accountable.

Attending local fairs with James and Ms. Rhodes, buying each other cotton candy and burying his face into James’ shoulder when roller coasters got too steep.

Lying face-to-face in the same bed, doing nothing for hours but staring into each others’ eyes, wondering what they possibly could’ve done to have gotten so lucky as to receive  _ this _ .

The Rhodes household was a safe place. It was  _ Tony’s  _ safe place.

It was home.

Tony followed the group into the house to sit on one of the living room couches, Peter to his left and the suit to his right, James and his mom on the short couch opposite theirs. He allowed himself to phase out as he moved, knowing the house like the back of his hand - which was why he was so surprised when Ms. Rhodes’ face became visible just in front of his, and she was pulling him in for a hug. He fell into her embrace, too shocked to respond.

“Thank you for coming back,” she said quietly into his ear. “You mean so much to my boy, and I’m so glad you’re okay.” She pulled away then, straightening and walking back to her seat as if she hadn’t said a word. Tony looked after her, mouth hanging open, ignoring the questioning looks Peter and James were trying to give him.

“You’re not… surprised?” he asked as she got herself settled.

“What, that you’re alive?” Tony nodded, and Ms. Rhodes chuckled. “I don’t think anything you do could surprise me anymore, Tony.”

James leaned forward, brow furrowed. “So, you didn’t hear about him on the news? You don’t see his- his suit on the couch over there?”

Ms. Rhodes turned to James and patted his knee with a smile. “Oh, James, you always had such an overactive imagination. I’m not sure what you mean by any of those things. All I see is my son and his fiance.” James smiled and planted a grateful kiss on her cheek as Tony chuckled and looked down, relief filling his heart. There was no danger here.

“Thank you, Ms. Rhodes.”

She sighed. “I guess it would be fruitless to try to convince you to call me Roberta?” Tony just smiled, and she chuckled and turned her attention to Peter. “And who might you be?”

Tony saw the momentary confusion that crossed Peter’s face, and his heart dropped into his shoes. “Zero-”

“Peter,” Tony interrupted loudly, and he put a hand on Peter’s shoulder, rubbed it soothingly up and down his arm despite the boy’s confused expression. “His name is Peter Parker.”

“Well, Peter.” Ms. Rhodes spoke soothingly as if she hadn’t noticed anything, but Tony knew she was too bright to miss it. She was choosing to ignore it, which he was grateful for. “What are you doing with these two men?”

Peter looked at Tony uneasily before turning back to Ms. Rhodes. “We’re… getting revenge.”

“Revenge?” she echoed, keeping her eyes on Peter. Tony debated interrupting the boy, but he figured there was no point in hiding this from Ms. Rhodes - and even if they tried to, she would easily find out. “I’m not going to stick my nose into places it doesn’t belong, so I’ll trust that if my son’s fighting for it, it’s good. But, Peter, may I ask, how old are you? Where are your parents?”

Tony’s breath caught in his throat, but Peter didn’t seem bothered. “I’m fifteen. My parents are dead. I lived with my aunt, but… I left her.” He dropped his head, turned his attention down to his lap. “I kinda want to see her again, though,” he mumbled, and guilt wormed its way into Tony’s heart - but Ms. Rhodes just hummed, thinking.

“But I assume you can’t, because it’s not safe.” Peter nodded. “What’s your aunt’s name, Peter?”

“May,” he answered quietly, head still down. “May Parker.”

Then, without another word, Ms. Rhodes stood and made her way to the kitchen. Tony and James looked after her in confusion, and even Peter managed to perk up his head to look slightly behind him.

“Where is she-” Tony began, but James cut him off.

“I have no idea.”

She returned no more than three minutes later, the men staring at the doorway to the room she had disappeared into the entire time. She stood in the middle of the living room with a small smile and her hands on her hips.

“She’ll be here before morning.”

Peter sat upright suddenly. “ _ What? _ Really?”

“Of course. I just got off the phone with her right now. Something you should learn, Peter - everything is possible in this world if you just  _ try _ .”

Peter looked to Tony, and he…  _ laughed _ . He genuinely laughed before springing up from the couch and running to hug Ms. Rhodes. She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed as he literally  _ giggled  _ in her arms, and Tony couldn’t bite back his smile.

“Thank you,” he whispered, and she gently stepped away from Peter.

“You’re sweet. Now, come on, you guys should get to bed. It’s late, and… I have a feeling you haven’t rested in a while. We can discuss more in the morning.”

Ms. Rhodes put her arm around Peter’s shoulders and began to lead him down the hall. Tony watched them until they disappeared around the corner; then, his smile fell and he turned back to James.

“She called the kid’s aunt?” he hissed, and James moved to sit beside Tony.

“Look, she’s just trying to help, okay? And, she’s a smart woman. She picked up a few tricks when I was in university. When she has a first and last name and generallocation it wouldn’t take long for her to track someone down.”

Tony thought that should’ve unnerved him, but honestly, he was just impressed. Ms. Rhodes was always sharp - he didn’t know why he assumed otherwise.

“Okay, but, Rhodes, I practically  _ kidnapped  _ her child. I’m not her favourite person.”

James looked uneasy as he shifted closer. “Look, I’m sure it’ll be fine-” Tony scoffed, but James just spoke louder. “ _ It’ll be fine _ . But if not, you know, my mom will be able to step in. She’s great.”

“Alright,” Tony sighed. “But if I’ve gone this far just to be murdered by someone’s aunt - albeit a hot one, at that-”

“Keep calling her hot, and the kid will probably murder you first.”

Tony dropped his head. “We’re so close,” he whispered, and he felt James place a hand onto his shoulder. “We’re  _ so close _ , Rhodes, but I forgot-  _ fuck _ , I forgot about his aunt. I forgot he was a  _ kid _ , and I-” Tony quieted his voice until it was barely audible. “I forgot he wasn’t mine. My kid, my responsibility, whatever, I don’t know, I just… I  _ forgot _ .”

“C’mere,” James murmured, and he pulled Tony closer until he was leaning against James’ shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re with me.”

“Yeah,” James whispered, running his hand along Tony’s arm. “Me, too.”

Footsteps were heard from behind the couch and Ms. Rhodes stepped into view, smiling down on Tony and James in each others’ arms.

“Everything okay with the kid?” Tony asked, still leaning against James.

“Yeah, he’s just asking to see you. I thought you and him could take James’ old room? Or one of you could always take the couch.”

Tony shook his head as he stood, letting James’ arm fall to the cushions behind him. “We’ll be fine, thank you.” He reached behind him and James gently grabbed his hand before letting go. Tony smiled.

“Goodnight,” he whispered, feeling content and…  _ safe  _ for the first time in a while. James smiled back. Then Tony turned and headed down the hall, nodding appreciatively at Ms. Rhodes as he went, the suit following not far behind.

A tidal wave of emotions overcame him as he stepped into James’ old room, the pale green walls reminding him of… maybe not happier times;  _ easier  _ times. The bed in the centre, where Tony and James would lie for hours, just resting. The wardrobe in the corner where Tony used to have a drawer for himself. He wondered if his clothes were still there… but, no. That would be silly, right? It had been ten years; there would be no reason, no excuse, for James to keep his clothes.

Tony was pulled out of his reminiscing by Peter sitting upright on the bed in a new pair of clothes, an oversized white t-shirt and black sweatpants, staring worriedly at him. He stepped toward the bed to stand at the foot of it, grabbed the rail nonchalantly.

“What’s up, Pete?”

Peter opened his mouth to close it again, mumble something incoherent. Tony subconsciously leaned forward, brow furrowing.

“Peter? You’ll have to speak up, bud-”

“Am I human?”

Tony’s heart dropped to the floor and for a second all he could do was stand, frozen, as Peter dropped his head and began fiddling with his hands in his lap. He forced himself to move and sat on the bed facing Peter. The boy didn’t look up, but Tony did notice a tear fall down his cheek.

“No, no, Peter-  _ hey _ .” Peter sniffled and lifted his head, looking at Tony with red eyes.

“They made it pretty clear, Tony. I’m not normal. I’m weird, I’m strange, I should’ve never-” Peter must’ve seen the murderous look in Tony’s eyes because he cut himself off and dropped his gaze. Tony reached forward and gripped Peter’s chin - maybe a bit too harsh, but at the moment, he didn’t care - and forced Peter to look back at him.

“You should have never  _ what? _ ”

Peter forced his head out of Tony’s grip and looked away.

“Don’t you  _ dare  _ ignore me, Parker-”

“I should’ve never left!” Peter shouted, voice loud and unwavering - and Tony’s world came to a grinding halt.

“What?”

“I should’ve….” Peter dropped his head and started to cry, shoulders quivering with the weight of his sobs. “I’m not normal. I’m not  _ healthy _ . I’m not- they told me I wasn’t, I wasn’t human, I wasn’t real, they  _ told me _ -”

“Peter,” Tony whispered, reaching a hand to rest on Peter’s shoulder. The boy looked up at him, tears evident in his eyes. “Peter, that’s not true, alright? I don’t care what they told you. They’re… they’re  _ evil  _ people, and those were all lies.”

Peter shook his head. “Prove it.”

Tony readjusted himself on the bed so he was closer to Peter and trailed his hands down so he was gripping both of Peter’s in his own. “Okay, you see these hands? They’re flesh and blood and bone, for one. Real,  _ human  _ hands, and they’re the human hands that swing from buildings, that fight crime, that synthesized their very own spider-webs, that made the ideas from  _ this  _ genius brain-” he removed his right hand to gently brush against Peter’s forehead- “into a reality.”

Tony moved his hand to Peter’s right shoulder, chuckling lightly. “This shoulder? This is the one that I shot, because you were standing up for what you thought was right, and later… well, later, it got shot  _ again _ , because  _ again _ , you were fighting for what you believed in. Does it even hurt?”

Peter smiled and dropped his head. “No.”

Tony shook Peter’s shoulder slightly and bowed his head to be closer to Peter. “You have a heart of gold. You’re strong, and brave, and you’re better than most of the kids on this earth - scrap that,  _ all  _ of them, so I don’t want you  _ ever  _ repeating that again, okay?”

Peter kept his head down, still unsure.

“ _ Hey _ .” Peter looked up, eyes red. “You are real. You are  _ human _ . Whatever they told you, I want you to forget it.” Tony reached up and pressed lightly on Peter’s forehead. He leaned back and laughed, and Tony couldn’t help but chuckle. “Gone. Erased from your memory. Okay?”

“Yeah,” Peter agreed, nodding.

“Good.”

The sound of the main door slamming open interrupted whatever words they might’ve shared and Tony bolted upright, moving to put himself between Peter and the bedroom doorway - and then he heard the intruder speak.

“Where is he? Where’s my nephew?” the intruder, a woman, shouted, and Tony’s shoulders tensed. He turned to see Peter, but the boy was jumping off the bed and running passed him. Tony reached for him, but Peter was already disappearing around the corner and out of sight. Tony sighed and jogged after him.

Tony knew it was irrational to think this was one of Ross’ tricks, but he had difficulty trusting Peter to anyone knew. Could you blame him? He was protective. Too many things had happened to Peter under his watch, and he wasn’t interested in seeing any more.

Tony chased Peter out of the room and came to a stop when he was faced with a very angry-looking Aunt May, the same woman from Peter’s bedroom the night that began this all, holding Peter in her arms. The moment Tony made an appearance she was shoving Peter behind her, putting herself between the two of them. Peter’s eyes were peeking out from behind her, and they looked more at-ease, more calm, than Tony had seen them the entire time they were together. It made his heart ache.

May, on the other hand, was absolutely  _ livid _ . Her hands were occupied holding Peter behind her and she was a very petite woman, but that didn’t keep Tony from being scared. Her eyes were wide and bloodshot and her mouth was fixed into a deep grimace, and Tony subconsciously took a step back.

“You took my kid from me, Tony Stark?” she asked quietly, and Tony found his eyes searching the room for James and Ms. Rhodes. He found them in the corner, watching, completely at ease. Like they were interested in seeing how this played out. Like this was  _ fun _ . Uh, hello? Tony had a very good chance of being  _ murdered  _ here.

“I’d like an answer,” May called his attention back to her, and Tony shot his head forward to see she had taken a few steps closer to him, Peter standing anxiously behind her.

“Ms. Parker,” Tony stuttered, trying (and failing) to regain authority (if he even had it in the first place. Signs pointed to  _ no _ ). “Peter joined me of his own accord-”

“Bull _ shit _ ,” she snapped, and Tony flinched. May took another step closer. “My child is not Spider-Man, okay? You took him, blamed him, made him take the fall for that masked vigilante? For what? You  _ kidnapped  _ my child-”

Peter stepped forward, eyes flitting nervously between May and Tony. “It’s true, May-”

May’s eyes didn’t once leave Tony’s. “Don’t say anything, Peter-”

“I chose to go,” he tried again, and May froze. “And I… I  _ am _ Spider-Man.”

May whipped her head around so fast, Tony got sympathy pains. “You  _ what? _ ”

“Yeah.” Peter stepped forward slowly, looked nervously to Tony - who just shrugged.  _ You’re on your own, kid _ . “I mean, Tony told me what he was fighting for, and it…” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “It actually made a lot of sense. So I chose to go with him- and, really, May, it was the right choice! I mean, you know me, right? You know I wouldn’t support anything if it wasn’t-”

“You’re Spider-Man?”

Peter froze, mouth hanging open. Then, he chuckled awkwardly. “Ok-ay, so maybe you don’t  _ really  _ know me-”

“ _ Peter _ .” May stepped closer to him and even though they were the same height, Peter seemed to shrink under her gaze. “Honesty. Right now. Get it all out.’

Peter sighed and dropped his head, then looked up to Tony. “You’d have to hear the story for yourself and decide, I guess.”

“Story?” May turned back to Tony, brow furrowed. “What  _ story?  _ I swear, if one of you doesn’t start explaining-”

“2008,” Tony began, rolling his shoulders back. If May wanted honesty, if she wanted a story, he would tell it as real and as true as he could. “ _ Howard Stark’s missing son.  _ I’m sure you’ve heard of it, read all the headlines. It all began there.”


	16. Your Escape

By the time Tony finished explaining his story in its entirety, the sun was beginning to rise, its golden light shining through the curtain. He sat back on the couch cushions, throat dry, James on his right, Ms. Rhodes standing against the wall in the corner, and May and Peter on the couch across from him. He waited for someone to speak, but for a moment, no one said anything.

So he waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

May’s eyes were wide. Her mouth was opening and closing slightly like she knew it was her social cue to say something, but she didn’t know what. She couldn’t even form the words. She was still trying to process the information - Tony could practically see her thoughts swirling and trying to make sense of what she had just heard. She didn’t seem to be coming to any conclusions.

Peter rubbed at his eyes - the poor kid must’ve been  _ exhausted _ , Tony realized - and leaned forward. “See, May, it wasn’t a rash decision-”

“Just- just hold on for a minute, Peter,” she interrupted, voice shaking.

The group sat in silence for another few minutes.

May cleared her throat, finally tore her eyes away from Tony’s. “So you- you dedicated your life to getting revenge.”

Tony pinched his lips together and nodded, feeling a pang of guilt and regret. Revenge was a dumb motivator, he realized now - now that Peter had been caught in the crossfire. Ten years.  _ Ten years  _ spent in hatred,  _ wasted  _ in hatred, and all it took was one fifteen-year-old to turn it all around.

“But I- I can promise you, Ms. Parker, not anymore. I’ve changed-”

She scoffed. “What, in a week?”

“Well, I-

“You’re just trying to get my nephew on your team, Stark. Now, I don’t know why. I don’t know what value he holds to you-”

Tony held his hands out in front of him and May fell silent, giving him the chance to speak - but she clearly wasn’t happy about it.

“Ms. Parker, I get it-”

“Do you?”

Tony sighed at her accusatory tone. He dropped his head and took a deep breath before lifting it and trying again. “Okay, maybe I don’t understand. But… this may be difficult to believe, but I’ve changed, in these last few days.”

“You wouldn’t be the first man to tell me that, and it’s never been true thus far.”

Despite himself, Tony chuckled. “Yeah, okay, fair. Um… I haven’t really communicated with another human being in ten years. Mind giving me a minute?”

May raised an eyebrow, but otherwise remained stoic - not granting Tony his wish, nor refusing it. He decided to take this as a sign and turned to James, widening his eyes like,  _ help? _ James sighed and shook his head. Tony groaned and dragged his eyes back to May.  _ Just speak from the heart _ , he decided.  _ Let her be the judge _ .

He smiled at her. She just stared back.  _ Just go for it _ .

“Last week, I only had one goal in my mind. Revenge,” he began. He was just… going to be honest. “I was so caught up in Steve Rogers, in getting back at him, I didn’t really care who got caught in the crossfire. I was… angry, and I guess my decade-long isolation didn’t help that.” Tony looked beside May then to Peter, the boy gnawing on his lip anxiously and twisting his fingers in his lap - but Tony couldn’t keep from smiling. There were his big brown eyes, the ones that were scared, but defiant, when Tony pulled off his mask that day oh so long ago. The ones that laughed and teared up at times, that grew wide with awe and realization and pain, and everything in between. The ones that taught Tony to care.

To be human.

Tony continued speaking while he kept his eyes on Peter.

“Then I met your nephew,” he continued quietly. “Peter Parker. At first, it was because he was a wrench in my plans - and a pretty persistent one, at that-” Peter smirked- “and I just wanted to stop Spider-Man. But… he  _ didn’t  _ stop. He kept fighting, even when I threatened to reveal his identity, even when I shot him- both dick moves, by the way-”

May whirled to face Peter. “He  _ shot  _ you?”

“No! Well, kinda-” Tony shouted, at the same time Peter interrupted, “Not a big deal, May, really-”

“Peter changed me,” Tony said loudly, and the room fell silent. “He taught me that there were other things, more  _ important  _ things, than… revenge. And even if my opinion on Rogers didn’t change….” He shrugged. “Dunno, I guess Peter taught me that it didn’t matter anymore.  _ He  _ did. Protecting him, keeping him safe, and I couldn’t stand anything happening to him, especially on my watch.”

Tony moved his eyes to May, her expression slowly softening, lips pursing in thought. He didn’t look at Peter, couldn’t bring himself to completely focus on Peter’s frozen face, brow slightly furrowed, lips slightly parted. An expression of shock - but maybe there was a hint of delight behind it? Tony didn’t focus in on it, though. He didn’t want to give himself false hope, didn’t want to be mistaken in thinking Peter felt as safe around Tony as Tony felt right protecting him.

May swallowed thickly. Her voice was quiet, unsure. “Now, I’m not saying I do, because you still took my kid, did some pretty illegal activities with him by your side. But if I did believe you, Stark, if I did trust you… what would our next step be?”

Next step.

_ Our _ .

Tony was so shocked for a moment at the acceptance in May’s voice, he didn’t speak for a second. It took James digging an elbow into Tony’s side to urge his brain into motion.

“Well….” Tony looked sideways at James, and miraculously, his expression showed that he seemed to be thinking the same thing Tony was. “We have a cabin in the woods, James and I. A remote place, just our own, and we were thinking… maybe we’d hide out there.”

“We being…?”

“We being  _ me _ ,” Tony supplied, voice shaking. “Unless James wants to join me, and, well, Peter….” He quieted his voice. “Peter may not be safe back at his apartment.”

May was shaking her head before Tony could finish. “ _ No _ . You’re not taking my nephew away from me. What did he even do to warrant this search for him? From what you’ve told me, he hasn’t been seen working with you publicly, his identity’s just been revealed at the same time  _ you  _ started causing trouble-”

James cleared his throat, and Tony looked at him to see the man…  _ raising his hand _ . Goodness, he was adorable.

“That would be me,” he chuckled awkwardly. “See, Tony confided in me, told me his plans -  _ every  _ part of  his plans, Peter included - and… I relied it back to the news sources.” May’s jaw hit the floor, and James hurried to reconcile. “I just wanted to protect the Cap! I mean, I was worried Tony was going to do something bad, and so I saved a life!”

“How do we know you’re not going to turn them in again?” May snapped, moving a protective hand in front of her nephew. “How do we know the police aren’t coming to the house at this minute?”

“I could be asking you the same question.”

The two stared at each other, both refusing to speak, neither moving. Ms. Rhodes stepped forward from the wall to stand between them.

“Okay,” she soothed in her gentle voice. “I think we’ve established no one’s turning anyone in. Can we at least agree we’re on the same side, and we’ll go from there.”

James nodded immediately, but that wasn’t what Tony was worried about. He instead looked to May, who had resumed gnawing on her lip, looking unsure. Her eyes moved from James, to Ms. Rhodes, to Peter, and finally to Tony… and then, they softened.

“If Peter trusts you,” May said softly as she looked to Peter, who nodded vigorously, eyes wide and sincere. She sighed, not moving her eyes from my nephew. “Yeah, we’re on the same side.”

Relief flooded Tony’s features and he leaned forward, dropping his head into his hands as he breathed deeply and chuckled soundlessly. Was this… was this  _ freedom?  _ Everyone important, everyone Tony really cared about, they were all in agreeance! They were all on his side-

“On two conditions.”

Tony’s head shot up. “Yeah, anything.” And he meant it.

“One, you stop going after Mr. Rogers. I don’t care what he did to you or what he didn’t do. You have to put all personal vendettas aside. I will  _ not  _ stand for murder.”

“Assassination,” Tony corrected under his breath. “Fine. No murder,” he groaned. “What else?”

“You have to protect my boy, alright? No matter what, he comes first. If you’re going to be with him… you’re going to do it right.”

Tony allowed himself to look to Peter, who was watching him carefully, unsure - and from the warmth that entered his heart when he looked at the young boy, he knew instantly - he would do anything to protect Peter. He would protect the kid like he was his own.

Tony would die for Peter.

“Of course,” Tony answered quickly, nodding. “I’ll protect him with my life.” And that was the truth.

May sat back in her seat for what must’ve been the first time that night. “Okay,” she consented quietly. “What’s our next move?”

Tony’s eyes widened and he looked behind May to Peter, who seemed just excited as Tony was feeling. Then Tony looked to James, who had a small smile on his face - an,  _ I always knew it would work out this way  _ smile.

“I guess to the cabin,” Tony answered finally, words slow and careful, like he was worried May would revoke her permission at any minute. “No one knows where it is. It was like… a summer project.” He smiled then, remembering that one summer. Never had he spent so much time away from Howard, used so many lies to have done so, spent so much time with James, and had been so happy.

“I’d have to be there full-time, until this calms down. Rhodes might come and go-”

“Unless they know I helped you,” James said suddenly, and Tony’s brow furrowed.

“What?”

“Think about it. I came to visit you, didn’t tell Ross what we were talking about, even though we were clearly saying  _ something _ . Then, not long after,  _ boom _ . Rescue mission.”

Tony’s mouth dropped open. He hadn’t even thought of that - he’d just been so happy with freedom and the thought of spending the rest of his life with James.

Ms. Rhodes stepped forward and Tony was reminded that she was even in the room. She had stood so still, so quiet, deep in thought, and when she stepped forward she was calm and reserved.

“Why don’t we just check the news?” She suggested, and Tony caught James gnawing on his lip from his peripherals, but the man nodded anyway. Ms. Rhodes reached for the remote on the coffee table between the two couches, then turned on the t.v. against the far wall where the host was talking about a new peacekeeping initiative (ironic). The group, all five of them, turned to face the t.v., the tension in the room palpable. Surely, if they were going to talk about a case as large as this, it would be coming up repeatedly, right?

And then, as if answering a question Tony hadn’t asked, the host’s face sobered, and she turned to look directly at the camera.

“Tony Stark and Peter Parker, the alleged Iron Assassin and Spider-Man respectively, escaped from an undisclosed high-security prison late last night.” From the corner of his eye, Tony saw Peter tense and May reach for his hand, neither one of them taking their eyes off the screen. “Eye witness reports say an Iron Assassin suit broke into the cells and flew away with the two criminals. Head of the Avengers, Thaddeus Ross, refused to comment. This begs the question: is this a danger to our world? Will the Iron Assassin strike again, or did we get it all wrong? If Tony Stark was in jail, who was in the suit? More on this after the break.”

Tony sat, frozen, staring at the screen. He couldn’t comprehend what he had just heard. The words were floating around in his brain but he couldn’t piece them together into coherent sentences, couldn’t comprehend the information set before him. May, thankfully, caught on a little quicker.

“They… they think they got the wrong guy,” she said quietly, and Tony saw all heads swivel to him. He didn’t look back; his blurred vision was fixed on the McDonalds commercial playing on the t.v. “What-”

“They don’t believe Tony’s the Iron Assassin,” James interrupted, voice incredulous. “You can’t be in the suit and outside of it at the same time.”

Tony finally tore his gaze away from the t.v. and looked at James. “I don’t-”

The jingle of the news silenced him and all attention focused back on the t.v., where the original host was sitting, accompanied by a man on her left.

“Welcome back to Channel 9 News, where we’re discussing the truth of Tony Stark and the Iron Assassin. If you’re just joining us, earlier last night Tony Stark and Peter Parker were rescued from a high-security prison by, get this, the Iron Assassin. Luke-” She turned to her cohost- “how can it be possible that Tony Stark was  _ in  _ the suit and  _ outside  _ of it?”

“Simply put, Lisa, it’s  _ not _ . Either that eye witness account was falsified, or the anonymous tip about the Iron Assassin’s identity a week ago was. And if that’s the case, then Peter Parker, a fifteen-year-old high school student in Queens, you might remember, is  _ not  _ Spider-Man.”

Lisa hummed her agreement. “That does seem unlikely, for a fifteen-year-old to perform the way the masked hero does.”

“I have to say I agree with you. But what does it say for Tony Stark and Peter Parker, still on the run from the authorities? Now there's proof they're not the terrorists we all accused them to be. Will the charges be dropped?"

"It's hard to say. They  _ did  _ try to flee criminal punishment, but they've got a pretty solid case. I wouldn't want to endure the punishment of a convicted terrorist, either."

"But, Lisa," Luke cut in. "The Iron Assassin  _ saved  _ them. Could this indicate a relationship between them? Potentially accomplices?"

Lisa was quick to shake her head. "I highly doubt it, Luke. The Assassin may just feel guilty, having an innocent man and a teenager take the fall for his, rather extreme, crimes."

"Does this seem like the kind of man who would feel guilt-"

"We don't know anything for sure," Lisa interrupted, clearly frustrated, "but we do know we owe Tony Stark and Peter Parker an apology. Clearly, they were not the criminals we feared them to be. They were simply victims of the system, and I'm sure the criminal justice department will be increasing their security for anonymous tips after this debacle."

Tony sat, unblinking. More words were being said - he saw the hosts' lips moving - he just couldn't discern what.

They really believed… they really believed Tony wasn't the Iron Assassin? They believed Peter wasn't Spider-Man? Through the one simple act of James coming to their aid he had somehow gotten them  _ all  _ off the hook. He had...

He had freed them.

Tony turned to James, eyes wide and vision blurry. Tears? He was crying? He didn't remember starting to cry, but he wouldn't be surprised if he was.

"We're…  _ free? _ " he asked in disbelief. There was a weight in his chest, but a  _ good  _ weight. All the emotions he had felt in this last week - anger, fear, despair,  _ love  _ \- they were all coming crashing down, converging all at once.

"Yeah," James answered quietly. "Yeah… we are."

What happened next was a blur. James laughed. Tony cried. May cheered. Tony hugged James, James hugged Ms. Rhodes, Ms. Rhodes hugged May, May hugged Peter, Peter hugged Tony. As Tony pulled Peter against his chest, as he rested his chin atop Peter's head, as they laughed until they cried or cried until they laughed or did both at the same time, Tony just thanked… thanked  _ everyone  _ he could think of.

Thanked James for leaving the tip anonymously, for rescuing them from the Raft.

Thanked Ms. Rhodes for giving them shelter.

Thanked May for being understanding, for being ready to support them, for… for raising Peter

Thanked Peter for being…  _ Peter _ . For being strong. For being brave. For being willing to follow Tony to the ends of the earth.

For helping Tony change.

For helping Tony grow.

For teaching him to love.

⬩ ⬥ ⬩

Tony and Peter turned themselves in the next day.

They spoke to the secretary at the front desk of the nearest police station. As he spoke into his radio, as two officers rounded the corner with handcuffs taking slow steps as if they were scared Tony and Peter would run, Tony reached a gentle hand down and gripped Peter’s in his own, rubbing his thumb along the boy’s knuckle bones. The officers pulled the two apart, slapped a pair of handcuffs on each’s wrists. Tony kept his eyes on Peter’s the entire time.

_ It’s okay _ , he tried to convey.  _ We’ll be okay _ . Peter gave a small smile in return.

James bailed them out not even twenty minutes later, and their court date was set for the next week.

Tony hired the best lawyer he could find with all the money he had (that was willing to represent him). It was a long, frustrating few days, between cops desperate for someone to blame and the innocent (kind of) person.

In the end, Tony got a fine of $1,000 for resisting arrest, and Peter, being a minor - and potentially taken against his will - got $250, but no jail time.

No arrests.

They were just… average citizens, wronged by an anonymous tip. A prank call was the official court ruling.

They were  _ free _ .

⬩ _Two weeks later_ ⬩

Tony sat on the back porch of his and James’ cabin, rocking back on one of the pair of rocking chairs they had built all those years ago.

_ “So when we’re old and gray-” James had tried to reason, but Tony had cut him off with a grin. _

_ “Nah, it’s just fun.” _

Tony smiled at the memory as a bird flew by before soaring above the trees, a shadow among the orange sky of dusk.

_ “You think we’ll have kids by that time?” James had asked a few moments later as they sat beside each other, rocking back and forth contently, their hands intertwined in the open air between the armrests. _

_ “I hope so,” Tony smiled. _

_ “And we’ll name them after our parents.” _

_ Tony sighed. “Well-” _

_ “Terrence, if he’s a boy,” James interrupted as if he didn’t hear Tony. “And if she’s a girl, Roberta, or Maria. Or, who knows?” He turned to Tony, who was sporting a hopeful expression. “Twin baby girls. What d’you think of that?” _

Tony had been nervous, at first, to agree to having a child. It seemed like such a big prospect, something he could never do, something he would never be  _ interested  _ in doing - and then he met Peter. The boy had won over his heart so easily, so unexpectedly, and in that moment Tony knew, he would be a good father because he wanted to be. He wanted to put Peter’s desires, his wants, his needs, his  _ safety _ , over Tony’s own. He wanted to be Peter’s protector, his saviour.

_ “I’m glad we did this, Tony,” James had said quietly, and Tony had turned his head away from two squirrels chasing each other up a tree to face him. _

_ “Did what?” _

_ “Build this. Our own little world. Our own little  _ escape _.” _

_ “Yeah.” Tony sat back in his chair and sighed. “Me, too.” _

_ “I’ll be your escape, okay?” James said softly, squeezing Tony’s hand slightly. “And you be mine. We’ll always look out for each other, right?” _

_ “Yeah,” Tony whispered. “Always.” _

⬩ ⬥ ⬩

Tony looked away from the quickly darkening sky when he heard the sound of tires against gravel from the front of the house. He slowly pushed himself to his feet and stretched, his back cracking, before making his way to the front of the cabin. He rounded the corner just in time to see May and Peter step out of their 2007 Honda Civic (Tony made a mental note to buy them a new car if they were going to drive up here every weekend) and close the doors behind them.

Peter straightened and fixed Tony with a crooked grin before taking a few steps toward him and giving him a light hug. Tony chuckled before placing his arms around the boy, May smiling as she slowly walked up behind Peter. Tony just shook his head, Peter still flush against his chest.

“Everything alright?” Tony asked, a slight chuckle in his words. May shrugged, amused.

“He misses you. After spending practically every day together, a week seems to be too long between visits.”

“Come by more often.”

Peter pulled away from Tony, blushing, while May chuckled. “We appreciate the offer, Tony, but that wouldn’t be ethical, what with all the gas money and how long it takes to get down here-”

“I’ll come to you, then.” May froze and Tony smiled before slinging a hand across Peter’s shoulders and beginning to lead him inside, May not far behind. “I mean, it’s not like I have anything to do out here. Alone. As long as you promise not to cook, May. I’ll take care of the food.”

May laughed as the group proceeded into the living room and settled on the single, large couch opposite the t.v. Tony had just settled against the armrest, Peter sandwiched between him and May on the other side, when there was a knock at the front door.

“I just sat down,” he mock-grumbled as he tossed the t.v. remote at Peter’s face (and heard the boy giggle) before moving back toward the door and pulling it open for James and Ms. Rhodes. She came in first with a simple greeting which Tony returned before he turned his attention to James, who nodded his head outside. Tony followed him out and closed the door behind him

James led Tony through the trees until the cabin was small behind them, momentarily forgotten in favour of something more important, something  _ better _ , but a reminder that it would always be there upon his return. Tony caught up to James and smiled once they were in line. He reached his hand down and intertwined his fingers with James', who smiled back at him.

“What’s up?” Tony asked quietly, not wanting to disturb the serenity of the nature around him. “You need to come up more often, actually. Once everything at work settles, I want to see you more than twice a week.”

James exhaled deeply.

“You doing okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Tony answered easily, leaning against James’ side. James removed his hand from Tony’s to wrap it around his shoulders and pull the man to his chest. “Are you?”

“I am now.” James smiled, and for a moment neither said anything as they stared out at the trees, birds flying by and squirrels scampering through the leaves. “How’s the cabin? Everything okay? I brought some new stuff to make it more comfortable-”

“Rhodes.” James stopped talking. “It’s  _ perfect _ . You really did a good job building it.”

“ _ We _ .”

“Yeah,” Tony whispered, smiling. “I love the sound of that.  _ We _ .”

“Together,” James agreed.

“Together.”

“Actually….” James moved slightly and Tony pulled away from his side to see James reaching his hand into the inside pocket of his trenchcoat. “I brought something for you.”

Tony’s brow furrowed, but he stayed silent as James withdrew his hand from his pocket with a small, white piece of paper… no, a  _ photograph _ , the back to Tony.

James fiddled with it in his hands as he looked down at it, gnawing on his lip. Tony watched him carefully.

“So I was looking in that wardrobe - you know, the one your clothes were always in when you stayed over? You’re never getting those sweaters back, by the way, they’re still in there. Anyway, I forgot I had put this in there when you…  _ left _ , but, uh….”

James turned the image around sheepishly, his head down, and Tony took a slow step toward it. It was… a picture of  _ him _ , he realized, in Central Park in fall, judging by the colourful leaves behind him, and-

_ Oh _ .

Tony remembered this day.

It was the day James couldn’t pry the camera from his hands, and so he kept taking photos of the love of his life, one after the other after the other. Those were  _ his  _ experiences, his soon-to-be memories, and he didn’t want to forget a single one.

Apparently, James had the same thought.

The photo was of Tony at the Bethesda Terrace, his favourite spot, sitting on the edge of the fountain. He was looking into the falling stream of water. The picture was taken from behind it, Tony’s face right beside it, filled with awe and peace and  _ happiness _ . James had captured it all.

Tony reached out and took it gingerly from James’ hand.

“I didn’t know you took this,” Tony whispered, and James chuckled quietly.

“That was kind of the point.”

Tony looked up to James, eyes wide, photo held carefully but tightly between his fingers like he was desperate not to let go.

“I took one of you,” he continued quietly, and James nodded his head and smiled as he reached into his jacket pocket once more and withdrew it with two photos… this time, in frames.

James turned them to face Tony, smiling with tears beginning to form in the corners of Tony’s eyes, and Tony…  _ laughed _ . Giddy, like a child.

“You have them,” he said in awe. “You… you  _ kept  _ them.”

“‘Course I did, Tones,” James answered quietly. He stepped forward to Tony’s side and pressed a kiss to the crown of his head, keeping his hand out for Tony to see the photos - which he kept his eyes firmly fixed on.

“We were so young.”

“Yeah,” James whispered, wrapping his arm around Tony once more.

“But… the photos….” Tony’s voice sounded agitated, and James looked down at him worriedly. “They should be switched.”

James laughed suddenly as Tony pulled the photo of James from James’ hand and replaced it with his own, so they had each other’s photos.

“You’re right,” he said quietly, so quietly he wasn’t even sure Tony had heard him.

“What about the one of the two of us?”

“We’ll get it copied,” James answered simply. “So we can both have one.”

“Yeah.” Tony smiled and leaned back into James, who held him tightly. “So we’ll always be with each other.”

“Of course,” James agreed, smiling so wide he thought his face might’ve been broken - but at the moment, he didn’t care. “I’ll never leave you again.”

“No,” Tony whispered, shaking his head. “Never again.”

As the sun rose and fell each day, as the earth turned, as the seasons changed (as James watched the colourful leaves and Tony, the glittering snow), that promise would never be broken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it!  
> I'll admit this chapter was kind of disappointing for me to read over, but I hope you think it's an adequate conclusion.
> 
> I figure you may have some questions, but I didn't want to explicitly state everything in the story - maybe leave some things to your imagination. But if you want the answers to how certain things turned out, ask below and I'll answer!
> 
> Thank you all for sticking with me during this story! As is evident, I know nothing of the American justice system... but I tried my best? I hope you enjoyed it! Thank you for all your support! I'll see you next time!! <3


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